Change my fate
by Only Secret
Summary: Three years since Fate parted them, now they meet again. No longer lovers, but enemies, fighters of a different cause in this final war. Each step can be their last. Each move can cut the thin thread between them. Will Fate hold them together in the end?
1. Life

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize or i'd be rich now and won't be worrying about my grades! :p

Spoiler: HP books up to OotP just to be sure

A/N: For anyone who hasn't read 'It wasn't enough to keep you' I'd suggest you read it first! And thank you to all those who supported me! This is the sequel that i've promised.

**Change my fate**

"Hermione!" a voice yelled, turning her attention away from the girl she was talking to and earning himself glares from the people in the room.

"Ronald Weasley! This is a hospital wing! You should know better than that!" she chided at the other end of the room. She apologized to the little girl she was talking to, before walking over to her best friend and leading him away from the room.

It has been three years since Graduation and they had all taken their sides in this War. Some by choice...and some by Fate. Cruel Fate who takes amusement in others' suffering. Her friends and she stood strong in the Frontline, fighting for what they believed in and protecting those who placed their faith in them. Falling, and standing back up again.

The knowledge she had acquired wasn't so important anymore. It was basic survival every day. A struggle for the next breath. Her dreams were lost. Like they never existed. Maybe they never did. She wasn't so sure anymore.

"Now, what was all the racket about?" asked Hermione when they were beyond the room.

"There was another attack today! It was at Diagon Ally! He made an appearance!"

Hermione's heart leapt. It leapt even after two years. Two painfully slow years. She knew it was not her lost love that Ron was talking about, but even the mention of his master made her heart cried.

"Was anyone hurt? Is Harry okay?" She asked urgently, praying vehemently that no one was... and more importantly Harry wasn't.

Harry was their only hope in this war. They can't lose him. _She_ can't lose him. He was her last hope. Her very last since three years ago, when every dream was shattered and blown away by the wind. He was her last hope for a better life.

"Yes and No." replied Ron solemnly. "Terry is in St. Mungo. He was put in Crutatius. Not sure if he'll make it."

"But...What about Harry?" she asked, feeling slightly remorseful for not worrying about Terry.

"He's fine. Just upset. He's back with Gin." Ron patted her back, trying to comfort her.

"Damn! I need to be out there, not here!" She complained. She was 'here' for ages. At least in her opinion she was.

She watched Ron's expression changed. From understanding to stern. The conversation that was coming had been gone through many times.

"Hermione..." he began, exasperated.

"Ron, I've been here for three weeks! I can get back on to the field now!" she half-yelled, desperately.

"Hermione! You've been hit by a Cruciatus and you broke your leg. You should be resting!" her friend said, experately.

"But...!"

"No, buts, Ms. Granger!" a voice interrupted. "You are not going any where near the fields in some time! So, I suggest you go back to your bed and Mr. Weasley, visiting times are over!"

Both of them sighed, for different reasons. Hermione sighed dejectedly as she was ushered back into the hospital wing by Madame Promfry. Ron sighed with relief as he was able to avoid an endless argument and waved goodbye to her.

Hermione waved at her friend and made her way back to her bed. Her request, or rather demand was once again, denied. This was the first time she was back at Hogwarts. Professor Snape had graciously suggested that she complete her apprenticeship at 12 Grimmauld Place. She had eagerly accepted that idea and finished her apprenticeship a year ago.

She had then entered the field. The immediate battle. The fight that had claimed so many lives. She was fighting, hurting...surviving. Trying to defend her belief. Until she was injured. Ambushed by a group of Death Eater when Luna Lovegood and she was returning from Diagon Alley. The Aurors arrived sometime later. But Luna never made it back that day.

She was sent to Hogwarts, due to the already overwhelming number at St. Mungo.

She had to get away. Away from the Hospital Wing. Away from Hogwarts. They never knew, so they never understood the memories that were killing her. Very slowly. Very Painfully. They had begun here. Exactly on the bed where the girl she was talking to was at. And like three years ago, the girl's lover from that House had visited her. Looking at her reminded Hermione so much of Him. Her lost love. The man who chose power before her.

She sat back in her bed and moan softly. A very pitiful moan. As if mourning for her ill-fated love.

She fell asleep, in her own hell.

xxXxx

Time past slowly. Autumn past into Winter. She was still there. Stuck.

It was weeks since Ron's visit. They were busy. She understood. That's why she needed to go. They needed her. The Order needed her. Those who put their faith in her needed her. She couldn't stay. Wouldn't stay a second longer.

She had planned an escape from her personal 'hell hole' since the moment she arrived. She knew that they would make her stay. She knew she would that very second they sent her to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron wanted her out of the battle for as long as they could make her. She knew that they did it out of love for her. But it wasn't fair. Not fair that she had to suffer for her ill-fated love. Not fair that she had to worry about them when she should be next to them.

She was out of Hogwarts' ground already. It was dusk already. The crimson sun was setting quickly into the horizon. It was a beautiful sunset in such trouble times, as beautiful as the rising of its counterpart.

She was aware that Albus Dumbledore knew of her departure. Not from her. He just knew. She was thankful that he did not stop her. Hopefully, her former Headmaster would not inform Harry or Ron before she was at Diagon Alley. Hopefully.

xxXxx

The night was cold. Freezing. It wasn't snowing. It was raining. Not a soft drizzle. But a biting rain of half formed hail. It was a rain that reflected the sorrow of her world.

She was limping slightly. The pain in her leg was intense. Maybe she shouldn't have left the Hospital wing without some Pain killing potion that she took nightly. Damn. She can't be weak now!

It was dark in Diagon Alley. Darker than she remembered in her last visit. Filled with the scent melancholy and fear. A fear that radiated. It was dark, but not deserted. Eyes were watching, spying and calculating.

Everything happened at once.

She saw Harry running towards her...with his wand stretched in front of her. He was yelling something and a jet of light sprung from his wand.

A gloved hand grab onto her wrist.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the cliffy! Well...this is the first chapter of the Sequel/'Change my fate'! What do you think? Please review...oh yeah...Please suggest the ending you want, e.g. a happy ending or a sad ending?!....Now...you know where the Review Button is...so PRESS it! I know i'm greedy...but I'll need least 5 reviews to continue dis time 


	2. Encounter

A/N: I must say that I am rather...actually make that very, disappointed that I did not get any reviews...well...I've got chapter two now...hopefully, those who read this will review '

Disclaimer: Any HP books

**Encounter**

She saw the light streamed at her.

She could now recognize the color.

It was green.

The gloved hand tried to jerk her into the path of the curse. But before Hermione was in its path, it raced pass her and into figure behind. The grip loosened and she ducked just in time as the next spell flew across the road. Harry dodged the spell with relative ease and was next to her by the time she got her wand out of its holder.

"Harry! I..." She began but was cut short as another spell came.

"Don't say a thing now!" Harry glared at her. "We'll talk about it once this is over...and if we get outta this aliv..."

They dodged...and were separated by the panicking people in the street. Hermione continued fighting her way towards Harry as she took out as much Death Eater as she could. It was hard with her limping leg. Damn hard.

"Stupefy!" She yelled as she saw a Death Eater approached her from her left.

One down.

"Rictusempra!"

Another down. Hopefully, that Death Eater will stay there for a while, until the Aurors came.

The crowd was mad. Driven by so much fear that she can taste it in the air. They were panicking, running around, dodging curses. Where did they come from? Only seconds ago, Diagon Alley was silent with only a few people.

She heard someone scream. That familiar scream. It was not someone's voice she recognized. But she knew it. The scream of pure pain. An agony caused by the spell caster's unreasonable hate. Cruciatus. The spell that immobilized her for ages.

She ran towards the scream. Trying to find the assaulter amongst the havoc. It was hard. When she found the man who screamed, he was writhing violently on the ground and the Death Eater who casted the spell was running towards another group of panicking crowd. She pointed her wand resolutely at the back of the Death Eater.

She hated taking her opponents from behind. The feeling of guilt and pettiness filled her every time. She wished it hadn't had to be this way. This, dishonorable way of combat. But this was war. Whether she liked it or not, survival was a priority...sole priority, she had to take every chance the opponents gave her.

It was their fault anyways, wasn't it? To turn their backs and not pay attention.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The dreaded jet of light streamed towards the unguarded Death Eater. The Death Eater didn't even have enough time to turn around fully and see the curse flying his way. The eyes behind the mask widened and the body slumped to the already bloodied floor.

Another lifeless body. Another stain of blood on her hands.

She turned to check on Harry. He was practically surrounded. She couldn't reach him anytime soon though. The hysterical crowd were like strong currents. Shoving. Pushing. Forcing her weary body to move with the flow.

Where the hell were the Aurors? Haven't they learnt from their mistakes? Didn't they know that time can caused the life of Harry?

She raised her wand and in the crack of a second where she came directly in view of the group of Death Eater surrounding Harry, she shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The Death Eater, assumable as a she as she was at least a head shorter than the others, flew across the street and her wand went into Hermione's waiting palm. The other Death Eater looked shock at the sudden attack on their fellow.

Idiots.

Taking the slight distraction to his full advantage, Harry attacked. Not the naïve boy from Hogwarts, but the man that emerged in this war. A man who had seen more blood than he should see. He attacked with the fierceness and probably a portion of the hatred he reserved only for Voldemort.

Those Death Eaters were down before their foolish heads turned back from their fallen comrade. But more came. Another set of pawns entered this chess board. She felt sad for them. Just pawns. The chances of rising and become Queen in this game are virtually zero. Not when _he_ is around. Not when _he_ is the Dark Lord's right hand.

Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and made her way towards Harry.

Harry was quickly outnumbered. It was not because Harry was inexperienced or weak. He was, in fact, one of the best duelers in this generation. Harry had been on the edge since the death of Sirius and the revelation of his prophecy. It was his burden. His only and his biggest.

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The duel continued. They endless circle kept on turning. Hermione, already at Harry's side, fought along with him with their backs to a wall. One by one the Death Eater fell. It was not that the Death Eaters were awful dueler, but it was the survival of the fittest and they were not the fitter ones in this battle.

When the number of Death Eaters started to increase again, the Aurors arrived. They were efficient at what they did, albeit always late. Hermione and Harry sunk into the background. Gasping. Trying to catch their breaths. Resting.

Hermione slid down the wall she was leaning on. Harry remained standing, more alert of their surrounding. Her leg was killing her. During the ominous battle, she had overstressed her healing leg. It would not surprise her that the bone was once again fractured.

"Harry," she began, only starting to regain her normal breathing. "I'm sor-"

"I don't know what possessed you to do that, Hermione." Harry interrupted harshly. The adrenaline was still high. "We didn't put you in Hogwarts so you can roam around! Do you know how worried Ron and I were when...WATCH OUT!"

Harry forcefully shoved Hermione from her sitting position as a stream of light flew towards their general direction. She wasn't sure who send the spell. But she felt Harry slumped against her. She looked up surprised as Harry's deathly pale face hung limply on his shoulder.

She gently put her arms around Harry's back and felt something wet. The familiar coppery odor entered her nose. Fear rose in her.

It was the essence.

The life source.

She was acquainted with blood. She had killed in the field. She had taken lives and she herself had taken injuries before. But fear still emerged in her that moment. Never had Harry took a curse that caused him to bleed so much and become unconscious.

He was still. Motionless.

"Harry!" she whispered frantically. "Please, answer me! Harry!"

Harry remained silent.

"Harry, please don't die on..."

A voice interrupted.

"Avada..."

She flung herself in front of Harry as the tall, hooded Death Eater aimed a spell at him.

It was all her fault. If she hadn't sneaked out...if she hadn't listened to her immature self...if...

Then she looked at Harry's assaulter and time froze.

Steely blue orbs met hers and time stopped.

Just like it did that day. The day they parted. The day that she learnt that Fate is cruel.

_Indeed until next time...but next time we meet, we'll not be lovers, but enemies, soldiers of different fronts..._

They finally met.

He didn't recognize her at first. At least she hoped that he didn't for the coldness in his eyes terrified her. She had not seen him like that. Never in her years of knowing him. There was ambition...and hatred. Deep fiery hatred. A hate that ran so deep that she wouldn't associate with anyone but Voldemort...

When he saw her in the dimly lit alley, his curse drifted. His eyes widened and emotions flashed through them. Different emotions. For a brief moment, they were back in Seventh Year. They were in love, and they were happy. His eyes shone with tenderness that they once held. But it was soon gone, as she saw him regained his tight reign of his emotion.

She watched his blue eyes become clouded and stormy whilst his wand still pointed threateningly at her. He seemed to be having an internal struggle.

"Draco?" she whispered worriedly.

"Go." He said softly.

"What?" she looked at him surprised.

"Go." He repeated more desperately. "I can't kill you, Hermione! So go, before the others find you."

She wanted to stay and talk about what was happening. To wonder how she and he ended up in this mess. In the opposite ends of the war. But her priority now, was with Harry. Only Harry. She had to get him out of this mess. Even if it cost her life. The life she doesn't deserve to have after so foolishly throwing herself into the field. She watched him ran away from the alley and join the raging battle. She apparated away to 12 Grimmauld Place with Harry tight in her embrace.

* * *

A/N: Yay doing a happy dance, before dodging behind the chair to avoid objects thrown Second Chapter done! I hope you like this...I really, really, really, really...desperately need some reviews! Tell me anything...wheter you think it's good, what you want to happen, the type of ending you want...etc. etc. Thanks for reading, but i won't know unless you REVIEW!

Now, i know you want to press that button down there!


	3. Lair

Disclaimer: you may be getting really sick of me saying this (hell, i know i'm sick of saying this)- I do not own any of the characters that you recognize.

A/N: This is the third chap! Well, i've got it done...amazing...well...i hope you like it!

**The pain in the lair**

Right hand man or not. A 'mistake' in the dark lord's eyes was a mistake. And with a mistake, punishment was in order. Punishment that usually came in the form of Cruciatus.

He walked away from his lord's quarter, bearing his weary body. He tried not to limp, tried not to show his weakness but he was tired. He was strained, both physically and emotionally. His muscles were screaming at him and his mind thundered.

Something happened today. Something he dreaded for a long time.

"Hey, Draco." A voice asked behind him, halting him. It was Blaise Zabini. He was an acquaintance during Hogwarts but now he was the closest thing Draco had to a friend. In fact, Blaise was his best friend now. He was surprised that he didn't get to know him better during his school years; then again, Blaise had an uncanny skill of blending into the background.

"Hey." He greeted as politely as he could, for his body and mind was screaming for the temporary peace that he hoped to find in his bed. He waited for him to catch up.

"What was all that about?" His friend asked. "You've never failed a task before."

He smiled tightly. When they reached his quarters, he graciously invited Blaise in despite his body's protest. Pouring them some liquor, they sat in front of the dimly lit room.

"She was there." Draco explained simply.

"She?" Blaise looked at him confused, raising his eyebrow. "I believe your task was to capture Potter."

"She was there _with_ him!" Draco took a large swig at his liquor before refilling it. He started to pace the room, despite the obvious protest of his limbs.

Blaise's brain spun, trying to digest and understand the information Draco had just given him. He always knew Draco had a secret affair in their last year but he never figured out his lover. A female of the opposite front. An important chess piece of this war. Someone close to Potter.

It clicked then.

The sole female of this war.

"Granger was there?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"But I thought she was in hiding since the last attack in Diagon Alley where she got injured! How did she get there?"

"That's what I'd like to know too." Draco mumbled tightly.

"It was her, wasn't it?"

Draco looked at Blaise sharply before he nodded. He was aware that Blaise Zabini knew of his secret affair but could not figure out about the girl, his lover, his only.

Life was not what he had expected. Though only in his early twenties, he felt old, physically and emotionally. The power was there. The power he chose was there. But it was not obtainable. Not at all. The power was the Dark Lord's and his alone. In the three years he had been in service, he had regretted his decision- choosing power over love. But the guilt of abandoning his love had never been so strong. After seeing the pale and thinner Hermione, his heart twisted painfully.

"You know I never like what I'm doing. I'm just here, serving him to save my family." Blaise said dully, snapping Draco out of his reverie.

Draco raised his eyebrow at Blaise's sudden confession. That was not what he expected tonight. He was about to open his mouth when his door burst opened revealing the haggard Pansy Pakinson.

"Oh, Draco! I heard what happened! Are you okay? Was My Lord harsh on you? Why did you let Potter go?" Pansy gasped out in a breath, running towards Draco and hugging him tightly. Blaise stiffened noticeably.

Draco removed Pansy's arms around his neck. He sighed mentally. Pansy was devoted and a decent woman, most of time...if one overlooked the side she had taken. But she had never comprehended the idea that Draco was not interested in her in the way that she was. "Pansy, he apparated before I could reach him." He quickly made up an excuse.

"Oh." She said sympathetically. "But you're okay, right? Are you hurt?"

"Yes, Pansy, I'm okay and I'm not hurt." He replied slightly exasperatedly. "Will you allow me some rest? It has been a tiring day for me."

"Of course, Draco. Rest." She smiled, giving him a peck on the cheeks before turning around noticing the blank faced Blaise in his chair. "Oh hey, Blaise."

Blaise smiled stiffly and Pansy walked briskly out of Draco's room. With the door closed, the room became silent again aside from the soft crackling of the firewood.

"...And her." Draco said breaking the silence. It wasn't a question, but a statement. His friend's obvious affection for the dark haired woman was unrequited up to this day.

"Yes. And her." He said in a pained voice. Though his face was void of any elaborate emotions, one who knew Blaise well would look into his eyes, where the storm of his pain blew and howled. "Why is it that she can never see me as more than a friend? I have been there for her when you weren't. I listened to her. I supported her. Yet she sees me naught more than a friend..."

Draco remaining silent and let his friend's words rolled off his tongues. He felt bad for his friend too. But he didn't choose who he fell in love with or who fell in love with him. He wished he did though. Then life wouldn't be so harsh for him. Then he would not have hesitated to kill her and Potter today. Then he wouldn't be having these thoughts. Cruel Fate. Fate must be having a good laugh at their misery.

Once Blaise finished his rant, Draco poured him more liquor. He sat down opposite his friend and made a toast.

"For the fools who fell in love with the wrong women."

They drank heartily. To bury their sorrow in the drink. To feel the numbness in their mind and heart. To wallow up in self-pity.

When morning is here, they would be the cold, high ranking death eaters that were in favor of the Dark Lord.

But until dawn arrives, they allowed themselves to mourn. For an unrequited ardor and a forbidden love.

* * *

A/N: this chapter is finished...i hope you enjoy and pleased Review! Gosh...i'm starting to sound like a broken record!


	4. Pain

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them -sobs-

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed, I really appreciated your comments. A special thanks to **saFire flamE** who beta my work dis time :p and before I babble your head off, may Angel's Luv aka. Only Secret presents to you....

**Pain**

The bitter rain poured, as if crying out her anguish. Her misery. Her guilt.

Hermione apparated in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. The house was silent. A regular house. One, on a normal day would never have suspected that this was the Head Quarters of the Order of Phoenix. If Hermione, herself, was in any calm state of mind, she would have laughed at the irony of the situation, for the current occupants worked against all the house stood for.

Her arms were killing her as was her healing leg. Harry's build may be lithe and light, but for her, it was a burden to her body. She dragged her weary body towards the door and banged furiously.

"It's me. Hermione." She shouted desperately as Harry's blood began to soak through her already-wet clothes. "Please open the door..."

She did not even finish her sentence as the door shot open revealing Molly Weasley. She looked angry yet relieved. But seeing the collapsed Harry in Hermione's arms, she gasped.

"Oh no." she whispered before shouting into the house as she quickly pulled the two figures in and closed the door. "Remus, Severus! Hermione's here! Harry! Harry's hurt! Fred, George!"

The house bustled with life as Hermione slumped to the floor. In all her pain, she still heard the heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs and some more rushing over from kitchen area. Within seconds, a sea of red swarmed her. She felt the weight of Harry leave her.

It was until she, herself, was carried to her room in 12 Grimmauld Place with Molly and Ginny starting to tend to her wounds that Hermione's pain-fogged mind began to work again.

"Ouch." She yelped suddenly at the sharp pain in her leg.

"Yes..." Molly said as she inspected her injured leg. "I am no expert. But I believe you broke it...again."

"What were you thinking, 'Mione?" a clearly upset Ginny asked.

"I don't know...I-" Hermione said helplessly. Of course, she knew...but how could she explained to them? The pain, the despair she felt.

Suddenly the door slammed opened. Bill Weasley, pale under the dim lights, shouted from the doorway.

"Mom, we need you with Harry. We don't know what to do!"

Ginny rushed out of the room, hurrying to the room that Harry occupied.

"But..." Mrs. Weasley hesitated. "Severus and Remus or even your father should know what to do..."

"Well," Bill said sarcastically, "Turns out they don't really."

"But..."

"Mrs. Weasley. I'm okay. I can tend to my wounds. I know how to." Hermione reassured from her position on the bed. "Go to Harry. He needs more help than me."

Without another word, Mrs. Weasley left the room with Bill behind.

After a moment of silent, Hermione gingerly sat herself up, preparing for the impact of touching the floor. She slowly moved herself to the edge of bed and stood up, ignoring the urge to cry out in pain. She limped towards the door and closed it firmly. She then moved to the mirror so she could see her wounds more clearly.

As she gently healed her wounds, she sank into a deep trance.

She met _him_ today.

It was the moment she dreaded everyday since they parted.

Tonight, meeting him again had aroused the pain, the thorn in her heart that she had grown accustomed to suddenly throbbed more painfully. It was as if he had pushed the thorn even deeper into her heart.

His betrayal...no, the path he chose.

The power that he wanted more than anything in the world. Even more than their love.

Fate was so cruel, to make them meet again.

She feared and hated him for who he was now...but she loved him for who he once was.

He couldn't kill her today...maybe it was of the surprise of finally meeting or maybe of the love, the weakness, he had for her. But one day, when the surprise ends, and the love vanishes, and he becomes stronger, he would surely raise his wand at her.

Was that not true?

Her heart did not want to believe, but...

Tears rolled down her cheeks, reminding herself of the fact, not the possibility, but a _fact_ -creating a clean path on her blood smeared face.

Maybe Fate was trying to tell her that it was time.

Time to end their affair. Time to end either of their roads. Time to pull the thorn out and let her heart heal.

Yes. It was time to let herself free.

It was time to move on. To end it once and for all.

Or was it?

xxXxx

"Oh Harry! I'm so sorry...I just couldn't stay there any longer." Hermione sobbed into her hands. "I didn't mean for any of that to happen. I just can't stay in Hogwarts. I don't know why I went to Diagon Alley first. I'm so sorry...I never wanted you to get hurt..."

Harry was shock, to say the very least. Aside from the initial shock of waking up and finding a hysterical Hermione by his bed, this was the first time he, or anyone, had seen the weary girl in the body of a woman cried. The first time since the departure at the end of their seventh year. They never knew why she cried. But it was the last time she shed tears in front of anyone.

Harry froze, not sure what to do at first. He then wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He whispered comforting words and wrapped his arms around his sister. His guide. His sword arm.

Even when Hermione calmed down, they stayed in the embrace. Many would question Ginny of the close relationship between Harry and Hermione, asked whether she was worried about the interference of another woman, but Ginny would smile and shake her head. She knew, Ron knew and more importantly, Harry and Hermione knew their place with each other. They each shared a unique bond with the other. Harry and Hermione were two kindred spirits. They were beyond lovers. Lovers will not describe the relationship they have. They were comrades. They were brother and sister. They were the sword and the shield.

Nothing will change that. Nothing can change that. Not even death.

"Do you know who attacked me that night?" Harry asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Hermione pulled out of the warm embrace. Her face...Not the lost and vulnerable girl she was only moments ago, but the woman, the warrior, the final victor. Her eyes shone with something Harry could not describe fully...it was sadness, determination, resolution...and triumph as well as...freedom. A freedom that did not seem to exist in this war.

It was raining. The wind howled outside, but the windows were closed and the fire was blazing in its berth. Yet the room seemed suddenly cooler.

"Yes." She said softly. "And I will kill him. To end it once and for all."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading again. Please review...and please try not to flame me (I have rather tender feelings -smiles shyly-) I'm working on my other fics too...but I will update as soon as possible. 


	5. Steps

Disclaimer: None of the character belongs to me! -sobs-

A/N: Thanks, hugs, kisses, and watever you want me to give you to all those who reviewed for my fic! I really appreciate your reviews!

**Steps**

She smiled slightly, a dangerous glint in her eyes. She wasn't the girl from Hogwarts that moment, but the cynical warrior that suddenly appeared.

Harry looked at her. Shocked by the outburst. It wasn't like Hermione, who often was compassionate and forgiving, to make such a declaration, such a threat. It was uncomfortable, to know that this war had hardened and made a severe woman out of the girl he considered family.

"So..." Harry began uncertainly. "How long was I out for?"

In moments, the girl in Hermione returned. The sisterly figure of the 'Boy' who lived came and the warrior retreated into her psyche as abruptly as she came.

"You've been sleeping for the last three days." She smiled ruefully. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to get you into that mess..."

xxXxx

No matter how Harry told her that it wasn't that bad, she would heed none of his words. Her guilt would not leave her. She had jeopardized the war because of the wound she never allowed to heal...because she had not prepare herself for that day. Deep in her heart, it wasn't a fact to her. That day was a dream to her. She never thought of that day as a reality.

Yes. He left her. They broke up.

She never expected to meet him again. Not under the wand point. Not on different paths.

Although sympathetic to some extent, Severus had been blunt, when he visited her the night before, telling her the consequences she might have caused and reprimanding her for not being readied.

She knew Severus was right. She knew damn well. And she was not going to repeat such a mistake again.

A growl interrupted her thoughts. She looked questioningly at Harry who smiled boyishly.

"Well, I did save your butt, so if you please, I'd like some food." He said.

She smiled once again at him. She will always have Harry, and the others. So it would be fine. She should be able to do what was needed of her. She hugged Harry again before standing up from his bedside and left the room. She walked down the stairs, staggering near the end, only to be caught by Ron who was ascending the stairs.

"'Mione! Are you okay? I was just going to check on you." he asked, concerned for Hermione who had sat next to her other best friend's bed since two nights ago. "You shouldn't be out of bed, you know, let alone to sit next to Harry."

Hermione smiled faintly at Ron as he helped her to a seat in the kitchen. "Thanks Ron," she said and then turned to Molly who was handing her some food. "Molly, can you please prepare some food for Harry? He's awake."

Ginny jumped up from her spot on the table, learning that Harry was awake; she took the tray of food that her mother had quickly prepared and rushed up the stairs.

The occupants of the room smiled softly at the retreating back of the young redhead. Some smiled for such happiness in such dark times. Some for the prospect of young budding love. Some for the familiarity of the scene in another place.

Hermione smiled for the happiness of her friends, her comrades, and out of envy. An envy for something she couldn't have.

The room returned to its uncomfortable silence as the steady footsteps of Ginny faded. No one tried to break it. She understood why they were uncomfortable. They wanted to know. Yet they dared not to voice their queries.

Time ticked and dribbled away like a steady flow of water.

"I-" She felt that she owed it to them to break this silence. Even though she could not explain her actions.

"Hermione, I know you have your reasons...you always have your reasons," Ron started his rant curtly, "but, I don't know why you ran away. We put you in Hogwarts because Harry and I _knew_ you would pull a stunt like this in St. Mungo...We thought that if you were in Hogwarts, you'd be more willing to-"

Mrs. Weasley interrupted as Hermione started to chew her lip nervously.

"Ronald Weasley! I do believe that is enough! You said it yourself, Hermione has her reasons!" Mrs. Weasley chided before turning to the girl she considered as a second daughter. She was so young...yet her eyes and body were so troubled. More troubled than her sons' or daughter's. "Hermione dear, I understand that you have your own pain and reasons to do what you did. But please, don't do that again. Consult us, if you have troubles. Don't run from them."

"Yes, Hermione," reassured Remus, who had yet made a comment since Hermione entered the room. "We are here for you. It doesn't help, running away."

Hermione's eyes welled up and soon tears cascaded down her face. Why hadn't she see sooner? She had always had them, her family, her support...What would a lost love be?

Nothing.

It should be nothing at all.

She was pulled awkwardly into a hug with Ron. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I was just worried." He apologized softly, blushing furiously.

"It's okay. I have my family." Hermione whispered back, as if reassuring herself.

"Hey, what is this? Starting a party without me?" Harry's voice interrupted.

Hermione broke from the embrace and saw Harry descending the stairs with Ginny supporting him. Her friend was grinning widely. Ron went straight to his best friend and assisted him to a chair in the kitchen area.

"Harry. You should still be in bed!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.

"Well-" Harry started with a brief smile.

Sharp and acute banging of the front door interrupted Harry's sentence. The residents of the house looked alertly at the door, coming to a silent agreement that they were to receive the possible intruder outside.

With all wands drawn from their cases, Remus moved towards the door.

He opened the door cautiously, revealing another redhead –Charlie Weasley.

"Charlie!" Molly cried. "What are you doing here? You said you weren't going to arrive until this evening!"

"Sorry, mom, change of plans." Charlie said breathlessly, when he entered the house. "Call Dumbledore here. Moody too. Is Harry here?"

"Yes." Harry said moving from his place on the chair with the help of Ron.

"Know where they're gonna hit next."

Within seconds, 12 Grimmauld Place was alive with rapid movements.

A counter-attack was needed.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry if you find this chapter boring. But it is necessary to set up for the next chapter. I promise that it will be more interesting next time! So please! Review!


	6. Debt

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. How sad -sobs-

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed! I love you ALL so much! However, this chapter is dedicated to **saFire flamE** whose bday is today!!! Happy Bday!! I love you, my friend!

**Debt**

She downed the small mouthful of potion without hesitation. Then grimaced.

Pain struck immediately.

It was a foul concoction and the pain it caused surpassed Skelle-grow, which was a very mild form of it.

She steadied herself on a nearby desktop in the resident potion Lab. Staring intensely at the floor, she tried to ignore the side-effects of the potion. She should have been readied for this. It was, after all, not the first time that she had used this potion.

Snape walked in and saw her. His protégé. Then he saw the bottle of Potion.

It was shock at first. To see this potion out.

Only few knew the existence of this potion in the lab. It was a dangerous potion. Close to poison. It was severe, deadly...and pure. So pure that, it could possibly save a man near death.

But he understood. He understood her need. Her determination. Her pain.

Feeling eyes upon her, Hermione looked up from the floor. "I'm fine." She said steadily to her mentor.

"You shouldn't take this potion." He stated, but not without empathy. "It will do more harm in the long term. It's not healthy to force your body to heal faster than it is capable of."

"I know. I was your student." She smiled wistfully, her tone than turned bitter. "But they are not keeping me here this time. I need to be there this time. It is time to end this. It has to end."

Snape looked skeptically at her. "Is it now?" he said. "There is still-"

"No." Hermione said firmly. "Draco's dead. He died that day at graduation. When he chose the other path. I don't love him anymore."

But she did.

And both of them knew it.

"I must go now, Severus." She said softly, her eyes slightly downcast. "I will end this. One way or another."

She left the room without looking back.

xxXxx

She entered the living room quietly. The tension was thick in the air. Thick enough to suffocate in it. Everyone was going over last minute plans or having meditations. It was always like this. The tension. The somberness.

Harry was scowling. Like a child.

"Remind me again, why am I not going this time?" he asked sulkily.

"Because, Harry, your injuries are still fresh and you, of all people, need your rest." Ginny sighed. Although she adored Harry, during times like this, the man in him would hide. He would become quite unbearable and childish.

"But-" He stood up to emphasize his state of health.

"No buts." Moody barked from his spot in the room. "You're a vital to the war. We are not going to have you frolicking around the spells when you can't hold one yourself!"

After the firm reprimand from Moody, Harry sat back down and crossed his arms, staring at the carpeted floor, moodily.

"Last check!" Moody barked again, gathering the solemn group around him. "You all know what we are doing tonight! You all know the risks! If you decide that you can't take it, leave now! I will not tolerate any stupidity when we leave! You understand?"

"Yes!" a chorus of people said. Despite the fact that this speech was said many a time, it was important to them. It reminded them of their significance. Their purpose. Their Goal.

Hermione watched as Tonks, Kingsley, Remus and the new members filed out of the room. She was about to follow them when a hand stopped her. It was Moody.

"Granger." He said, with one eye looking at her and his face void of expression, "I heard what happened. I am, simply appalled by your thoughtlessness..."

"Mr. Moody!" Harry snapped out of his sulk, startling Ginny beside him. "That was unnecessary! I'm aliv-"

"Harry! It's okay." She said, still looking at Moody. "I made a mistake with my decision. It is my responsibility to take up the consequences."

"Very Good, Granger." Moody looked at her, this time with both eyes and a tinge of admiration. "Remember, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Get out there fast!"

With that, Moody walked out of the room.

Hermione followed. She knew that _he_ would be there.

xxXxx

It had been snowing. A thin layer of pure white adorned the empty street. It was a shame that such purity would be stained soon.

"Don't spare them." Ron said to her as she got into her position, alert.

"Don't plan to." She said grimly.

Another skirmish. Lives would be lost. None of them should be of great significance to the war. But one. He would be here tonight. She knew it. Deep down, she didn't want him to be, but she also knew that he would. He would be here tonight. Leading his lord's minions. Leading those insignificant chess pieces. The pawns. Pawns that would not make it to the other side.

It started with the sounds of apparition. Over thirty Death Eaters appeared. Gathered tightly in a group.

All amateurs. Making themselves a target by crowding round.

Definitely pawns.

A nearly inaudible pop was heard. She knew that pop. He arrived.

Then before any action could be taken. Spells flew over to them. She saw him ducked with ease to avoid the many spells. But many were hit. Bodies dropped to the floor like puppets without string.

The odds were evened out.

Different duels started at the same time. Colorful lights flashed in the dark night. She attacked without blinking. Death Eaters that approached her were down before a duel happened.

She had a purpose this night. She wasn't up for the petty duels with the soldiers. She wanted the Commander. Be damned the adversaries that stood between them.

He stood at the edge of the battle. That was where she found him. Aloof. Calculating. And...surprised to see her there.

"Hermione-" he said as he saw the determined gleam in her eyes

They met once again.

In the mad waltz of curses.

She was ready for him.

It was time to start their final dance.

"Diffindo!" she yelled, sending the spell directly at him.

He was shocked. But he dodged in time and sent one back at her.

"Protego!" she defended herself.

The duel was exclusive. None attacked her or him aside from the two of them. It was as if no one was aware of this combat. Maybe no one was. The fight was probably still raging with the others.

Curses were sent back and forth. They were both aware of each other's capability in duels. Both were cautious.

Though, Hermione took the potion, her stamina still waned faster than she hoped. In the lapse of a second, when she didn't move fast enough, she was hit by the jelly leg spell.

Not exactly the dangerous ones that she expected him to use. But it was enough to make her fall onto the floor. He slowly approached her.

He might be worried or he might be preparing for the final hit.

She sent a body-binding jinx at him as soon as he was within the hit-range. She did not have the time to think.

He went down.

She took the spell off her body and stood up shakily.

Hermione made her way to him. Determined. Victorious. He was still conscious from his hard fall. Good.

She raised her wand at him. She smiled grimly. Not long ago, their positions were switched. Now it was her wand pointing at him. She should be ruthless. She should not spare him. Not him, of all people.

His eyes were stormy. They stared at her. It wasn't fear that shone in them though. But an understanding, acceptance...and adoration. She saw a tinge of confidence too. The confidence that dared her to kill him. As if killing him would make things better.

It should. For her. But would that be giving him an easy way out?

She had the right-hand man of the opposing front at her mercy. Yet she could not utter the spell. The determination seemed to slip. The resolution became unclear and unimportant. When he looked into her eyes, her entire being plunged into turmoil.

Filled in her heart and mind, were not the hate, the cruelty, the power and strength she needed. It was sorrow, love, weakness...and a debt. A debt she owed and had yet to pay.

"Through this," she whispered softly, her wand wavering in her hand. "My debt is paid, Draco. Next time we meet, may only one of us survive."

May fate seal this pledge. She did not think she could go on anymore under these situations. She would quail.

Hermione looked at his eyes and she found the same sorrow of their future reflecting in his eyes.

But sorrow would not help. Not in the past, nor in the present.

Not when fate was against them.

She turned her back. She wasn't afraid that he might attack her. She knew him too well. He couldn't. Not under her Body-Bind. He wouldn't. For until next time they met, they would still in love.

Until next time they met, she could not, _would_ not kill him; nor he, her.

But it would be different soon. And they both knew it.

* * *

A/N: So what do you think? How do you like the story? Hm? Hm? Please Review, Review, Review, Review!!!! -runs around hyperly, ducking from fings thrown her- REVIEW!


	7. Sanctuary

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, as you should all know...sigh...wish I did though.

A/N: Hi!! I'm back...well...sorta...I've got limited time online now...due to a descipline issue with certain demons...but anyway...I'm still updating...so no worries...if any of you were worrying! A thanks to all who had review! I really appreciate them...to all those who reviewed without signing in, I would like to thank you personally for your support...but it's a shame that I don't have your emails...if you get my drift...if you don't mind...can leave your email down? Before I go blabbering on...

**Sanctuary**

She stepped out of the side-street where her recent duel had taken place.

She looked around; the battle was over. They won...this one at least. They'd prevailed...but not without a price. Two of their new members were dead. Lying lifeless in the snow. Like the thirty-odd black cloaked bodies on the ground.

She didn't like to think of the dark clothed figures as men and women. All humanity was lost the second Voldemort's mark had branded them. What emotions that had been left were scarce. Hatred and a bitter coldness.

Their bodies will remain eternally nameless.

It wasn't right. Or fair. Two of them should be honored. Two of them fought for freedom, happiness and future.

Yet this was a war.

Their deaths were insignificant. It would not stop the war. The war wouldn't stop. Not until Voldemort...or Harry died. Not until one side collapsed.

Hermione looked at the floor, and noticed. As she had expected, the layer of purity was stained. With mud...and blood.

It was ironic. The blood of the 'pure' mixed with mud. The blood that was supposed to be above her. Beyond reach. Unattainable. Full of power. The better blood. It was below her feet now. Lowly. Dirty. And useless.

She smiled grimly still absorbing the scenery in front of her. She didn't even realize someone was beside her until a hand clapped her shoulder. Moody was next to her, sporting numerous minor cuts. His remaining hair, tousled. His thin lips stretched into a smirk.

"Well done, Granger. You've done well." He said gruffly.

Hermione's mind screamed. She did not deserve the praise. She didn't kill him. She couldn't kill him. She left him...alive.

A pop was heard in the darkened street that she emerged.

Both of their heads snapped towards the sound. They knew this sound well. It was apparation or disapparation. They ran. Without another thought. But before they reached the end of the road...where Hermione left him, another pop was heard.

Moody slowed. Hermione slowed with the experienced Auror. Moody pulled out his wand and took a defending pose. In case more Death Eaters arrived. Hermione followed suit as they proceed towards the dismal place.

"Damn!" Moody swore loudly. His magical eye roamed inside its socket madly.

They've arrived. Both of them, wands raised. Yet no one was there. The only evidences of presence of men before was the hazard pattern of foot steps and the indents made of the slow of bodies lain down.

He had escaped. Probably with the help of the Death Eater that had just arrived. He was back to his Lord.

Her emotions were conflicted. She was glad that she did not have to face him for a second time this evening. Yet it also meant that he was alive. She hadn't fulfilled her vow to Harry. This meant, she would meet him again. In another time. Another situation.

She must confront her fear again.

Damn indeed.

"Granger!" Moody barked as he walked away. "They've escaped. We can't do anything. Let's get back to the others. And CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Don't let me catch you off guard again! It may mean your life next time."

"Yes, sir!" Hermione called back as she followed Moody.

Everyone gathered in front of Moody when she arrived. None of them were seriously injured, but Tonks had to help Kingsley stand as his leg was distorted in several place.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Tonks yelped as Kinsley slipped from her grip.

Kingsley landed with a shout of pain.

Hermione saw Moody shook his head. She sympathized. It was amazing that this girl became an Auror. Moody turned to another member of the group which Hermione did not know too well and told him to take Kingsley back to the Head Quarters first.

When they'd apparated, the remaining members of the Order of Phoenix went to their job- taking care of the corpses. Burying them...or honoring them.

She walked up to a Death Eater's body and kneeled down. She tore off the mask and looked into the face.

A face of a human.

He was a boy. Had to be a boy. He looked no older than eighteen. Maybe just out of school...or worse...still in school. There wasn't any innocence on that face though. The innocence that she had had while still in Hogwarts. The naïve nature. She wasn't surprised, and she was saddened by it. This face before her, was destroyed. By many things. Hatred, pain, injuries...She could see a hint of ambition in his soulless eyes..._Draco's_ ambition...and...and...

Fear.

The most dominating emotion in his eyes. His last thoughts and feelings.

It was the fear of the greater power. The unknown.

Death.

Hermione gently laid her hands above the empty eyes and pushed the lids down. Ridding him of his final sentiment. Making him look peaceful. She, using her wand, wrapped the body up. It was to be disposed of. In the graveyard with million of nameless epitaphs, the pawn would make its final rest where its sins would remain unknown for all eternity. Except for those who knew them.

Someday, it would be Draco in front of her. Or maybe her. But what would be different is: neither of them were pawns. They would not remain nameless.

She saw Remus approached her.

"Don't let Moody catch you day dreaming." Remus said to her softly. He then looked at the corpse in front of him. He smiled grimly. "It's sad, isn't it? Seeing a boy so young taking the path of darkness and disaster."

"Yes, it is." Hermione said as she levitated the body and led it towards the group of bodies. She noticed that two bodies were enfolded in golden sheets. Their two brave fighters. She never really got to know them...

"You can't do anything about his choice, Hermione." Remus said, thinking that the girl was affected by the killings today.

"I know." She said, looking at the body one last time before turning around and made her way to another corpse. "They chose their paths."

When the arrangements for the deceased were completed. They returned to 12 Grimmauld place. Her sanctuary. A place where troubles were shared upon shoulders. There, she was greeted with warmth and a cup of cocoa, which she much needed after such depressing events.

She tried not to think. Knowing that anticipating herself over this would not do her any good.

Yet when she lay in bed that night, she could not help but wonder about _him_ at the other side of world. Her Only anxiety.

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think? It's _a bit_ slow at the moment...but I promise, I'll make it even better as the story goes on! Please review...The next chapter would be of Draco's...I think...and I'm hoping that I can get some more reviews this time...maybe reaching 25 reviews for this story won't be that bad...p 

REVIEW PLEASE! (with cookie n' cream ice cream and lots of chocolate fudge on top?)


	8. Order

Disclaimer: I bet people are getting sick of me saying this, but still have to do it...I don't own anything!

A/N: Hi, dear readers! I can update _finally_! I was hoping that I could update on Friday/Saturday...hoping that more people would have time to review p. Anyways...This is chapter eight! And it's a Dracocentric chapter, like **memommy27** had suggested! R/R...I hope _this_ time I can reach a highter number...I won't give a definite number to avoid disappointment...R/R!

**Order**

He was shocked. Still shocked. His mind was numbed with the words she had uttered so ruthlessly. So surely. So resolute. So determined.

"_My debt is paid, Draco. Next time we meet, may only one of us survive."_

It was blunt. Unreal to him.

His job was to select the elites to join them. To become full Death Eaters. Like him…only lesser. It was not a hard task.

Draco had not expected to see her there. He _had_ _not_ wanted to see her there. But he had.

The ambush started immediately when he arrived. He sank into the background. Like he was supposed to. Under his lord's orders, he was not to engage in any form of battle. This was the amateurs' test. He was to exit as soon as possible.

Dumbledore's opposition was expected.

But not _hers_.

He could kill Weasley without a second thought.

He could kill Potter without hesitation.

They could _all_ die, for all he cared.

But not her. He didn't think he could raise his wand at her. Not without guilt. Not without those bitter sweet memories.

He did though. He did tonight, when she attacked.

He had been standing there observing the battle when she came. She'd emerged from the raging spells. Calm. Confident. Controlled.

As if she was not affected by the curses flying about. As if she had only one purpose.

His heart ached, seeing her again. So lovely. So frail. Yet so strong.

Tonight, the final thread of the past had been broken.

The Forbidden fruit was eaten; they'd been found out, and they were cast away from Eden for eternity.

From this night onwards, their line was set.

Fate had sealed their roads.

They were enemies. Soldiers, not lovers. No longer lovers.

Their love, the love that shouldn't have been, had died in this war.

He was hit when he approached his fallen lover. It was his fault, really, that he wasn't paying attention…or was too worried for her.

He understood.

He did, when she pointed her wand at him. Determined to end this. The pain. The sorrow. The fate that'd dictated their love.

She hadn't killed him tonight. She couldn't. She still loved him tonight. She let him know that she loved him, one last time.

By letting him go. By turning her back on him. Again.

He could have broken the body-binding jinx. Easily. He didn't have the strength though.

Her words…they killed him. He wished she didn't have that affect on him, yet she did. He still loved her…she mattered…she meant something to him…

"Malfoy!" said Blaise, who had helped him tonight, as they approached Lord Voldemort's chambers. "The Dark Lord wishes to see you!"

"Thanks, Zabini." He said, his throat parched. "I owe you."

Blaise slapped his back good-naturedly before leaving.

Draco stood before the intimidating door. The door was nothing special. It was just a wooden door framed with metal. But the occupant inside was vigorous. It was as if he was about to walk into the Judgment room.

In a sense, he was.

He knocked and waited for the admittance of his presence.

The door opened. Slowly.

Dread filled him as he entered.

He approached regal figure in his seat, with his snake next to him. Power filled the room. The room was well lit but the power that radiated in there dimmed it. It was the power he wanted. The power that he had, had a taste of and could not seem to shake off. It was a tempting and addictive taste. Yet in the Dark Lord's service, he could never truly have power. Power belonged only to Lord Voldemort. No one else but him.

The Dark Lord sat on his chair in the dais. A King. A Tyrant. A mighty figure, about to address his subject.

He kneeled. Humble before his lord. Showing his lack of power. His inferiority.

He resented that.

"How are the new recruits?" Lord Voldemort started. His voice was dry as the dead leaves chuffing on the floor.

"Dead, sire." His tone was steely, as was expected of him. In this room, he was a Death Eater. Lord Voldemort's right hand man. Cold. Emotionless. A killing machine.

"Indeed. Some of them had looked promising. A shame. The newest group has arrived. They shall be ready for testing in a month."

"Yes, my lord."

"Why were you detained? I do believe that I requested your presence back here."

"I was hindered by some of the Mudblood loving scum who broke through the easy defense of the recruits. Zabini and I took care of them." He said. Telling half-truths was his way of surviving.

"I see."

A pregnant silent resonated in the room. Soft candlelight flickered in the room. Yet it did not comfort him. Under the surveillance of the Dark Lord, nothing brought anything but dread. An everlasting fear.

"Was Potter present?"

"No, sire." He replied in perfect composure. "He was injured in our last encounter but he escaped with the help of his other muggle loving fools."

Another silence.

It was unnerving.

"Malfoy." The Dark Lord hissed sinisterly.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I want her dead."

Those horrid words were uttered without hesitation. Lives meant little to the Dark Lord in his climb to power. It was power that mattered. It was power that Lord Voldemort preached. The absolute control.

The room was deathly silent. Even the creatures of the night quieted. Only the hissing snake next to Lord dared to make any sound.

Lord Voldemort didn't know, did he?

"Who, my lord?"

"You know whom I talk about. The woman that has made you weak. The female flesh that made you hesitant to make the right decisions."

"There is no such woman, my liege." He tried to deny. He knew who the Dark Lord was talking about. He knew very well. But how could he bring himself to kill this woman.

Pain. That was what he felt next. A deep searing pain. An agony that could have only been caused by the Cruciatus spell.

He bit his lip. He was not supposed to scream. He must remain silent. It was his punishment. For his insolence.

"MALFOY!" Lord Voldemort roared, making Draco flinch. "Don't play the fool with me! I know this wench exists! You let Potter go because of her. I will say this once again. I want her dead. Hermione Granger must die. Or I will have your life instead!"

"Yes, my lord." Draco replied in his pain-fogged mind.

"Dismissed."

"Thank you, my lord."

He slowly, flaccidly left Lord Voldemort's chamber. He made his way back to his room and was glad to find no one had intruded upon his only sanctuary in this world.

This was his place.

He was alone. He could sleep.

He changed quickly and laid his weary body in the cold bed. No fire could truly warm his bed…he closed his eyes.

But rest did not come.

His mind was filled with horrid images. Images of their next encounter.

Blood. The curses. And the worst of all…the pain in her eyes. Her shame and her vow tonight.

He was scared. For the first time since he'd joined Lord Voldemort, he was petrified. Not for him. For Her. For the woman he loved in the land where the sun shone forever.

* * *

A/N: So what do you think? Please review, review, review! Christmas is approaching in both, our world and 'Mione's, worlds; I'm planning to have two to three chapters during this time and I'm wodering if anyone would be interested in a chapter/interlude of Draco and Hermione's christmas in their Seventh Year...If I get enough reviews saying that they wuold like a short, semi stand alone story of Seventh Year Christmas...then I will write one. R/R 


	9. Rest

Disclaimer: Don't own anything at all!

A/N: Well...as the time of the year is approaching rapidly, this isa Christmas chapter (it is most likely that I make a Christmas Triology)! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for all those who reviewed and special thankts for my beta who made this story even better!

**Rest**

Since their last encounter when _he_ escaped, they had not met again. Both sides were silent and still. The month passed and the temperature continued to steep downwards. Before she knew it, it was Christmas. A time which she used to celebrate. Used to.

There wasn't much to celebrate anymore. They were at war. Yet this moment, a party, albeit not a big one, was raging in 12 Grimmauld Place.

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ron said good-naturedly as he moved to her corner and laid his arm across Hermione's shoulders. "It's Christmas. Lighten up! At least have an eggnog!"

A chorus of agreements was heard by the members of the Order close to them.

Hermione looked up from her book- 'Potions in Life and Death Situation', and smiled softly. She appreciated the fact that they were making an effort to include her…even though all she wanted was solitude. The self-isolation. To meditate, to prepare and to lose herself. To linger in the past.

"I'd-" she began, trying to think of a diplomatic way to avoid the festivity. But before she could, a glass of warm eggnog was pushed into her hand.

"Nonsense!" Ginny berated with a splitting smile and a huge amount of enthusiasm. "You're having fun for one night at least! Now, put down that scruffy and depressing book and join us!"

At that, Hermione was pulled by Ginny into the crowd of people with the sounds of Christmas music blasting. Hermione tried to look for an escape. She really was not up for this. Ginny had left her in the far end of the dancing floor while she went dancing with Harry.

"C'mon, Hermione! Smile, leave the frowns for after Christmas when you find out that you didn't get a present from me!" Remus joked as he approached her. He pulled Hermione into a dance when she finished her drink. "C'mon, dance with your old professor!"

Hermione laughed, finding herself enjoying the company of a good friend and respected teacher. "You're not old, Remus! If anyone's old here, it would be Professor Dumbledore, but I don't see him calling himself old!"

"Just the figure of speech." Remus grinned.

Maybe, only for tonight, she would enjoy herself. Her troubles and _him_ could bother her another day. Not tonight. She would enjoy Christmas with her family.

"May I cut in?" Ron hollered above the music. His face was red from the excitement or the alcohol. He smiled widely as Remus moved away politely and let him dance with Hermione. "My turn."

"Yes, your turn," humored Hermione in a very motherly tone at Ron's rather childish statement.

"Aww… 'Mione!" Ron whined. "Stop treating me like a kid."

Hermione laughed as the couples around burst into laughter as well. It was a funny sight, seeing a veteran of the war being childish and young again. After the laugh, they danced in silence. Enjoying each other's presence.

Ron and she were best friends. Ron was one of her constants. Just like Harry. They argued a lot, but they were close. He was the body, while she was the mind. He protected her from physical harm. In return, she guided their roads. Making sure that they wouldn't get themselves killed. They were siblings. Just that simple. Nothing more and nothing less.

That was the way they were. The relationship they wanted.

The evening wore on as Hermione slowly and truly relaxed herself. She allowed her guard to drop. She was the woman that would've been, unstained by the war. She was the girl not long out of school, the girl untouched by blood. She was young.

As the night continued, she took in an increasing amount of alcohol and made more merry with her friends. They sung, they danced and they enjoyed.

For it wasn't often that they could gather. It wasn't certain if all of them would be here at the end of this. So they lived for the moment for once. They lived in the present and did not think about the next day.

The clock struck twelve as everyone sobered up. No matter how drunken or how light-headed one would feel. It was a tradition. A new one. One started with the war. It was for remembrance. Hermione stood next to Ginny as they watched Dumbledore, the sole icon of their side, ascend the makeshift stage. It was silent. Not a silence of anticipation though.

They knew why he was up there.

"Tonight, I am once again, the bearer of ill news." Dumbledore began, his voice grim, "I'm sorry to say, the party ends. It is time for us to remember, to mourn the lost of our comrades. We have lost many great friends in this war. It is unfortunate that they can no longer stand amongst us. But we will always remember their sacrifices, as will those that will live in their triumph."

After all was said, the elderly professor flicked his wand. Small and delicate wooden boxes appeared before them, each bearing the names of the martyrs in gold. Into these boxes, they would put their final well wishes to each comrade. Then these boxes would be sent to the graves, where they would lie with the bodies.

Hermione and Ginny made their way to Luna's box. Although Luna and her had never really been close, like Harry and her, they had been there for each other. And in Luna's final moments, she had stood next to her. Screaming curses to defend them.

Ginny went first, as she was closer to Luna. She pointed her wand at the opened wooden cavity and closed her eyes. Golden specks collected at the tip of her wand. Forming into a soft golden ball of light. Ginny opened her eyes and with a soft flick of her wand, the ball of gold left the tip of her wand and sunk into the box. She then gazed softly at the name scrawled across the delicate craft before she stepped aside and let her stand before the last monument for their friend.

She stood there, wand out, eyes closed and remembered.

The ritual worked similar to collecting a Pensive. It helped with mourning. She collected her fondest memories with Luna and allowed these thoughts channeled through her arm into her wand. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the tingle of magic and knew that a globe of memories and final wishes collected before her.

When she was done, she opened her eyes and softly propelled these memories into the container before her. She still remembered everything with Luna. Their first encounter. Their disagreements. The insights they had shared.

But her heart was lighter, knowing that these memories were known to Luna too. Knowing that they shared those times together.

She moved away from the box and with Ginny, they proceed to another deceased member. Thanking them for their sacrifice.

As the ceremony completed, the boxes were collected and put in a room, where the next day, they would be buried next to their owners. One by one, the members disappeared. Harry went back to his room. As did Ron.

She sat there until the last one of their members disappeared. Hermione then picked up her book from where she left it and made her way to her room.

There, she found rest. For herself.

* * *

A/N: Those who had reviewed in the past, many thanks and those who had yet to review, please do (Make it my christmas prezzie). I don't know what else to say...how about an early MERRY CHRISTMAS?! -excuse me, I'm rather hyper today- tell me what you think about this story!! PLEASE, PLEASE, REVIEW! 


	10. Reasons

Disclaimer: I won't own any of them...so i stop dreaming sometime ago.

A/N: Sorry people! I was gonna post it earlier, but due to some hindrance on my part...it's abt a day late! Sorry!...Anyways, this is chapter 10 and it's Draco centric, his account of Christmas! Second of the Christmas stories! I hope you like it!

**Reasons**

He could almost hear himself laughing.

Almost.

The irony. It was too much.

Death Eaters, people bent on the destruction of muggles and mudbloods, were celebrating Christmas. It was but only one of the most popular muggle festivals.

It was the privilege and honor of the elites to dine with their Lord tonight. Around the table in the gloomy dinning chamber, sat the men and women whom the dark Lord favored more than his other servants. From Avery at the end of the table, to his father to the Lestranges. The only ones left. The only senior Death Eaters left in Lord Voldemort's closest court. The others had been overtaken by them or killed.

For Avery, age was already corrupting his body. His eyes were failing him as were his ears. His mind was still sharp, fortunately. His strategies were still useful to the Lord this moment. Blaise was learning from him now and Blaise was a fast learner.

The Lestranges, his aunt and uncle, were with them too. The maniacal gleam still shone wildly in their eyes. Their thirst for power and above all else, pain, was written clearly on their faces like the first time Draco had met them. Their hands were shaking though. He had seen them shake in the torture chambers in Azkaban, which they'd overtook at the start of the war. Gripping their wands seemed to have become a hard task for them. Their words, too, had become slurred a short while ago. It was obvious that they, like Avery, were aging and stamina was leaving them.

His father, quite simply, was a jest. The fact that Lord Voldemort allowed him to attend dinner with them was to honor _him_, his son. He was not useful to the Dark Lord any longer. He would still make a very good servant, but he was not as useful as he was twenty years ago. His purpose had been lost since Draco joined and he knew it. But he still refused to accept it. He was still trying to find ways to crawl back into their Lord's grace.

These senior Death Eaters wouldn't be here for long. This would surely be their last dinner they would dine with their Lord. All of the remaining seniors would be replaced by new Death Eaters. Servants with stamina, strength and skills that the Dark Lord would manipulate for his uses alone.

Draco continued his stare down the table, waiting for the Dark Lord's arrival. Blaise, Pansy and Millicent sat in the places of the formerly favored servants of the Lord. They were the new powers in front of their Lord. All of them basking in the privilege and awesome taste of power Lord Voldemort presented them.

But none were attaining the true power.

Blaise sat opposite him, chatting politely with Millicent and Pansy. Draco sat silently in his spot, the right hand of the Dark Lord, and analyzed.

What were their reasons of joining? Ambitions? Desires? Coercions?

Did they have a choice?

He knew that he himself had joined for power. It was ambitions. It was desires. He'd wanted to be more than he was at Hogwarts. He'd wanted to be greater than his father. To outlive the constant shadow he'd projected onto his young life.

Millicent, she wanted this. She hadn't been coerced into this like Goyle and Crabbe. She was a second Bellatrix. Only younger. Eager to please the Dark Lord and she loved to hear the screams of people in pain. She enjoyed what she had. Immensely. He could tell from her eagerness. The place in which she sat today was Bellatrix's and it would be hers for a long time.

Pansy, his childhood friend, was a doll, like his mother. A featherhead. Literally. She had never been presented a choice, like him. She had never _made _a choice. Her road was set for her and she had never questioned it. It was what a prosperous pureblood family did to their females. They distinguished the fire. From the moment she had been born, she served one purpose. Only one. To marry into a favored pureblood family. Namely, his. She was here because he was. He wasn't sure if Pansy knew her fate. Knew of the control, the cage around her. If she did, she showed no indication that she was dissatisfied by it. But then again, Pansy was a cunning woman; she wouldn't single herself out in such dangerous times.

Blaise, he knew, was here for two reasons. His family and Pansy. The Zabini family had never joined the First War. Their lineage, unlike most conventional Slytherin families, had built their household on love. There was hardly any thirst for power in the Zabinis. They were what Draco would have imagined Weasley's family was like. When Lord Voldemort had threatened the lives of Blaise's family, he joined without a second word. There was, of course, another motive behind Blaise's addition in their circle- Pansy. Since sometime ago, Draco had noticed the man's infatuation with Pansy. It may have started out as a schoolboy crush, but it had become more than that now. But the feelings were unrequited. The three of them were stuck in a fruitless triangle. Chasing after something they could not have…

"Such a merry occasion…" A voice hissed from the doorway.

Chatter died upon the tongues of those present.

The Dark Lord had arrived.

xxXxx

Wine was poured into the goblets of the occupants of the room as they finished the quiet meal. None dared to talk in front the majestic and cruel presence.

This was the time when conversations resumed. However this time, Lord Voldemort initiated it. It would not be idle talks that left his mouth. Nor would it be a blessing or a symphony of praises. It would even have been good if it were just curses and obscenities. Draco would have rather the talk be anything else but the war.

He did not want to think about it. He did not _need_ to think about it. It reminded him of a woman. It was painful to ponder about her.

Yet it was the war, Lord Voldemort spoke of.

"It is time that we make a visit to Azkaban." The Dark Lord started, looking carefully at their reactions.

"An exercise session with the ickle people there, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked gleefully, the mad light in her eyes brighter than before.

"Yes," Lord Voldemort hissed. "I've decided upon the way to test our newest recruits. We shall judge them on their ability to have some fun with those scum living there."

"A torture session, sire?" Pansy questioned from her place. Her face was expressionless, composed as always before her Lord.

"Are we allowed to participate?" Millicent asked enthusiastically.

"Of course." Lord Voldemort replied, pleased with the female occupants of the room. He then turned to the males. "Well, what says you, Zabini?"

"I believe that it is a fantastic idea, sire. It will be a very efficient way to judge our recruits without any loses. And if some are unable to sustain a high level of performance, I am sure that we can _teach_ them a lesson or two."

The Dark Lord nodded, accessing Blaise's answer. Draco looked at the composed and older strategist. He could feel the fear radiating from Avery. His time was near. Blaise was approaching his strategic prowess. Avery's fear of removal from Lord Voldemort's court was very contemporary.

Draco felt the gaze of the Dark Lord shifted onto him. He returned his attention to the master of the chamber. Immediately. Without a second of hesitation. It was fear that drove him. Terror that dictated his movement. Memories of agony that gave him speed.

Lord Voldemort's watchful red eyes were heavy. Had it been another man, he would have met his gaze and kept it. But not the Dark Lord's. His formidably powerful eyes pushed his head down as soon as he showed his attention to the Dark Lord.

"Young Malfoy, you've been quiet tonight. Why?" he asked in a dangerously soft hiss.

"My Lord," he began, "I was wondering about the exact dates for our _tour_. May I suggest New Year's Eve? It shall be b a wonderful time to rid the world of dirt and to begin your reign."

"Yes…" The Dark Lord pondered aloud. "It shall be New Year's Eve then. Avery, I would like a word with you. The others are dismissed."

The occupants of the room paid their respects to their master one last time before quickly emptying the room for Lord Voldemort and Avery. No words were exchanged. None would ever be. Though on the same side, it was obvious that each were enemies, fighting for attentions from the Dark Lord. There was no blood in this war yet…but the competition was vicious. Especially between Millicent Bulstrodes and Bellatrix Lestranges.

The hallway was eerily quiet. The senior Death Eaters made their way to the entrance hall where they would make their way home. Draco and the younger ones went to their rooms within the Dark Lord's lair.

The route back to their chambers was wordless. All were absorb in their own thoughts. Only the clicking of the Millicent and Pansy's shoes on the marble floor could be heard. He parted with them as he took a turn at the end of the dim and cold hallway.

Now, the hallway was truly silent. A true peace. The only tranquility was in this place and this war. His comfort. It reminded him so much of _that_ room in Hogwarts.

He arrived at his room quickly and opened the wooden door softly. As if afraid to break this seemingly magical spell of solace. He entered his room and went to the bathroom to take a shower. He smelt heavily like the food from the dinner.

After cleansing himself as thoroughly as he could, he went to bed. It was exhausting being under the surveillance of the Lord for such a long period of time. He was tired.

He closed his eyes and sought rest.

It was for the first time in the last few weeks. His eyes were able to close without any troublesome thoughts galloping across his weary mind. He slept and he dreamt.

He dreamt a sad dream.

A very sad dream.

* * *

A/N: So REVIEW! What do you think! Sorry there's so little action here...Next chapter would be a flashback! An account of their seventh year Christmas! Please review, review, review! Please with sprinkles on top of cookie n' cream and chocolate fudge ice cream! 


	11. Dream

Disclaimer: Don't own anything!

A/N: **MERRY CHRISTMAS!** well...now that I've got that across...so...here's chapter 11! I hope you like it...this is the chapter that i've been promising some readers! And this is sort of my Christmas gift to my loyal and friendly (because you never gave me a flame! I love you all so much) readers. Thanks for all your support! You can make my revision filled Christmas happier if you review hint hint.

**Dream**

He sat in the quiet room. Alone. Solitarily staring into the crackling flames. It was as if he was spending his time in the Manor. Yet it felt different. In the couch he sat on, he'd finally felt warmth and belonging.

So unlike the dread in his 'home'.

The coldness. The lumbering darkness in there.

A place where he's just a pawn. His trap.

He was in control here. In control of those who followed him, his grades, his appearance…everything-

"Draco?" a soft voice said.

Everything but her.

He turned towards the voice, his face blanked. It was a habit, hard to break, even though she insisted on seeing his emotions. He saw her. A beautiful creature. Poised and sophisticated. She stood there by the entrance, peering concernedly at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, tugging at the band that bound her lively hair together. It was truly amazing that it had taken him such a long time to see the energy that resided in her caramel locks.

"Draco? Are you okay?" she asked uncertainly again.

"What makes you think that I'm not, Granger?" he asked aloofly.

"Malfoy, it's rude to answer with a question." She said good-naturedly.

"You never seemed to care before. And when did I turn back to 'Malfoy'?" he said as he watched Hermione plop herself down next to him with a gentle smile.

"Since you started calling me 'Granger'." She said, leaning against him as she swung her legs onto the couch and opened a book to read.

They sat there, in silent and peace, comfortable with each other. It was often like that. They just enjoyed each other's presence. They didn't talk about it.

No one knew of their relationship. It was illicit. The forbidden fruit of Eden. There was no word for their relationship. It was just there.

It existed in the moment.

Passionate and comforting.

"I thought you were going back for Christmas." He said, still staring into the dancing flame.

"I was, but…things changed. Decided that I want to spend my last Christmas here." She said without looking up from her book that she was seemed so engrossed with.

"Where are Potter and Weasley?" he asked skeptically, looking away from the flames. "Shouldn't you be spending your Christmas with them?"

"They're playing chess. Harry's bent on winning Ron this year. They won't be leaving the common room anytime soon. They are so noisy…every five minutes…Ron laughing and Harry groaning." Hermione said, continuing with the book on her lap.

"I see." Draco said, looking back at the glowing colors in the fireplace.

What was he expecting anyway? They weren't supposed to be together. They didn't have a future.

"I wanted to spend time with you, Draco. Just you." Her voice made him look back at her. She was looking at him. With a smile. A soft smile that she showed to no one but the closest to her. He had seen her with this smile with Potter and Weasley. The utter adore in her eyes.

She leaned towards him and brushed her lips gently against him.

xxXxx

"I used to look outside the window every winter but I never went out to play." He said softly looking at the pristine snow around them. Everyone had either returned home for Christmas or visited Hogsmeade, so Hermione decided that they just _had_ to come out into the snow and enjoyed the weather.

"Why?" she asked in front him, so giddy that she was close to skipping. "Don't you ever play in the snow?"

"A Malfoy's heir is not allowed to." He replied simply.

"Is that so?" she said, her eyes twinkling in mischief, as she bent down and grabbed a fistful of snow and hurled it his way. It hit him squarely in the face.

"What the-" he exclaimed as he wiped the snow off his face. He saw her running away from him, yelling for him to 'get her back'.

He caught up with her quickly as his longer legs carried him a bigger distance compared to hers. His arms snaked around her waist as he turned the girl around. Her face was rosy from the wind that had hit her face whilst running. Her eyes glowing with life. He was sure that he could not find anything better than the girl before him. He knew that he would never find anything as precious as the girl before him.

He watched her squirming as she tried –unsuccessfully- to get out of his hold. A wicked thought came to him. His fingers started to dance. With a gasp, she writhed violently under his ministrations. He continued tickling her until she gave a hard tug to pull herself out of his reach. After that, as if in slow motion, she lost her balance and fell back. She landed, unceremoniously, on the snow.

"That, was cheating," she said, an accusing look plastered badly on her face, as he sat beside her on the thick soft snow. "You know I'm awfully ticklish."

"Alas, my lady," his voice mocking as he looked over at his side. "It is the one who knows the enemy who wins the battle."

She smiled brightly at him, understanding him perfectly.

"C'mon, let's go in for some hot chocolate." She said, her breath shallow from the activities they'd indulged in.

He looked at her, smiling at the enthusiasm she showed. He stood up and helped her up. How he wished that everyday could –and would- be like this. Just him and her. No one else. Only for them to enjoy.

xxXxx

He walked in quietly, as if afraid to wake an unspoken evil, while she was seated comfortably in her place, reading yet another book he did not think she would need in her future.

It was evening. Their common room was warm with the soft glow of light. He sat down opposite the young girl, his hand gripping a sheet of paper loosely. He looked at her and admired the intense and concentrated expression on her face. The illuminating light from the hearth highlighting all her best features. She acknowledged him with a smile before returning to the volume in her hands. He then contented himself with just looking at her.

He waited, as the content of the letter overwhelmed him. He remained silent until he could bear it no more.

"What would you do?" He said monotonously, looking over at the girl huddled in the armchair with an enormous-looking book. "If you had to do something you don't believe in?"

She looked up sharply. The glazed look on her face when she concentrated was gone. He could almost see the clogs in her head turning at an inhumane speed.

"What's this about?" she asked, choosing her vocabularies carefully. This was an area they had yet to touch. Choices –it was too sensitive. Linking so closely with the dismal future.

"I don't know, just asking." He replied, evading her question.

It was silent then. Neither spoke as they tried to anticipate where this conversation would lead them. A triumph? Or a heartbreak? It linked too much to the time coming to be an innocent question.

"Say no." she broke the silence softly. Her eyes looked at him with a resolute passion that she had always shown to a cause.

" 'Mione, I-" he began, not knowing how to respond to her…Plea? Demand?

"Say no, Draco." She said more firmly. "What will you gain from something you don't believe in? Money? Power? Love?"

"I don't know." He said, looking thoughtfully at the letter.

"Then say no!" she exclaimed. "You are allowed to decide. You have a choice!"

"Some people don't have a choice, Hermione. Some people are controlled by a stronger force." He said softly.

"Of course not! Everyone has a choice. The chance to seize what they want. Is the cause what _you_ want?" she said heatedly, glaring venomously at the letter in his hand as if she knew what it was about.

Maybe she did.

"Draco, you've a free will." She continued, softer after her outburst. "You make your own choices. Some people may not like your choice. But no one can condemn your decisions. Not Snape. Not me…Not even your father. You're not a caged bird. You're an eagle. An eagle that flies in the sky. Right?"

He looked at her. And saw her. Really saw her. The strength. The passions. The vibrant and vivacious woman that she was becoming.

She was truly beautiful.

Not just physically but spiritually. This moment, she was beautiful, more than ever. She meant so much to him. His light. His guidance.

"Yes." he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

She heard him though. She smiled and slowly sat next to him. She enveloped him into a hug as they gazed at the blazing fire in its hearth, enjoying each other's precious company.

"Stay here with me."

"Okay." She said, snuggling closer to him.

The snow danced furiously beyond their world, as if foretelling the end.

But, it didn't matter.

This moment was theirs. Theirs alone.

Theirs.

* * *

A/N: So how was this as a flashback? From me to you as a Christmas prezzy! Since it's christmas...please be nice and press that lil' button down there and review, please?! I would love you so much if you do...>w ! Please Review with hot fudge and cocoa sprinkles on cookie n' cream and chocolate ice cream! **MERRY CHRISTMAS** once again! 


	12. Captured

Disclaimer: None of this is mine...boo!

A/N: Hey! I'm back! Thank you for being so patient with me! Life sucks especially with exams. Well, they're over for now, and I'm here. So allow me to present you...tada...the fruit of my late nights and hard work...the next chapter of Change My Fate. Remember to review! For those who are waiting/longing/dreaming to see Draco and Hermione together...they're getting there...one or two more big things need to happen first.

**Captured**

She woke up with a familiar wetness on her face.

Tears.

She'd had a dream. A bittersweet memory, one of a child's aspiration and love. It was sad to realize how far she had trodden away from that path. So she had cried. Cried for those memories.

She looked around the bright room. She had forgotten to shut her curtains the previous evening when she'd climbed into bed

She sat up, hugged her legs to her chest and stared out through the window. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was just rising. It had snowed last night after the party had ended. A layer of pure white snow covered the world outside. It had snowed a lot this year unlike the previous years, where only a thin sheet of ice covered the ground. It was as if the Gods were reminding them of the innocence, the purity, the joy that their world was losing everyday.

She continued staring out the window. Simply giving herself to the moment. To lose herself in it. To let the tears flow again. It wasn't often that she could find time for herself. To be a girl again. Life had been so hectic in general. It had been either battling or preparing for battle.

She sat there and absorbed in the view as the world outside bustled into life with the rising sun.

When she had finally decided that she had sat in her bed long enough, she wiped her tears from her eyes, dressed and headed downstairs. Only Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were awake, sitting in the kitchen, conversing quietly while having breakfast. She walked in and was greeted with smiles from both mother and daughter. Mrs. Weasley turned and summoned a plate of breakfast for her as she sat down.

"G'morning." She said, stifling a yawn that suddenly came.

"G'morning." Ginny said whilst Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Hey, 'Mione, we're going to Diagon Alley when I finish this, do you want to come?"

"Why Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked. It had been a while since her last two unpleasant experiences in that place.

"Well, mom here wants to buy some more doxycide. Those pests just love that curtain in the drawing room." Ginny said, rolling her eyes at her mother's insistence of getting rid of them. They'd moved here since Hermione's fifth year and had started cleaning and tidying every niche of the house. Honestly, as long as the doxy stayed out of their way, all the members were okay with them.

Hermione smiled, Molly Weasley's love for hygiene was legendary; it surpassed her parents' and that was saying something. She shook her head. "I think I'll pass. I've got some potion in the lab that I need to monitor."

"Sure suit yourself. But, 'Mione, you need _some_ fun sometimes. It's no good to be cooped up in those smelly potions." Ginny commented as she finished her tea and handed her mother the dirtied plate and cup for her to clean in the sink where the charmed sponge was scrubbing furiously.

"I do have fun!" Hermione exclaimed with a smile as she watched the both of them left the kitchen and headed to the door. In her warm seat, she watched them open the door to a world of white. Just remembering something as the door started to close, she called out, "Be careful! If anything goes wrong, come back immediately!"

She saw the two figures' heads nodded before the door fully closed with a soft click.

She sat there, ate her food and waited for the rest of the occupants of the house to come down.

xxXxx

It was near noon when the rest of the household, which included the Weasleys that reside there and Harry, woke. They had a brunch and went to do the activity of their choice; it wasn't often that they get _free _time. Fred and George were obviously developing new pranks as loud yelps and banging were heard from their room. Mr. Weasley, Ron and Harry were immersed in a discussion about Muggle artifacts in the drawing room. She satisfied herself by monitoring her potions every half an hour.

The Pepper up potion that she had been brewing was complete at four. She left the lab with the bottled potion and looked out the window. The sun was setting already. It cast a dark, black shadow on the lives outside. Everything was moving at a leisurely pace as if no one had a worry for the world. It was a hectic figure that appeared in the yard and staggered towards the door, disrupting the scenery outside and made her frown in alarm.

She narrowed her eyes and tried to define the features of the person outside.

Mr. Weasley saw the figure too, but he knew the identity immediately and went for the door. As the abrupt knocks sounded on the door, he opened the entrance.

"Ginny!" Molly gasped as she stumbled into the house. Blood was on her clothes and tears were streaming down her face. Her hand was grasping tightly onto Ginny's wand.

Harry leapt out of his seat. "What? What happened to Ginny?" he rushed towards the hysterical woman who had collapsed on the floor.

"Oh! Harry!" Molly cried heartbrokenly. "They've got Ginny!"

It was as if the reality of Sirius's death settled in again.

Suddenly, Harry's face became oddly blank. Like it was when Sirius died, only worse. Instead of the sudden outburst of yelling and screaming, he became silent. All emotions hidden. He retreated into his shell. Hidden. Secure. Alone.

He stood there in front of the sobbing mother and stared into space as Mr. Weasley helped his fallen wife. He picked up the wand that Mrs. Weasley dropped and continued to stare at the door, as if expecting Ginny to walk in any moment. But then suddenly, as if reality crashed in, he fled to his room and slammed the door shut.

xxXxx

There was no time for guilt. She was guilty. Immensely. If she had went…Maybe, just maybe, Ginny would still be here instead of that god forsaken place. But there wasn't time for that.

She sat there around the table in the kitchen and listened to the men and women before her talk about the situation.

None of the Weasleys were there. Neither was Harry.

It was a hard blow to the family, especially after Percy's submission to St. Mungo a year ago.

They've all decided that it was necessary to rescue Ginny from the clutches of Voldemort. What they were arguing was when to take action.

They've learnt from Snape that the Dark Lord and his favorites would be visiting Azkaban shortly during New Year's Eve. Her mentor was against the idea of possible confrontation with Lord Voldemort. However, Professor Dumbledore seemed to be set on the idea that it would be the perfect time if not to end the war, to breach Azkaban and reclaim the dreaded prison.

"Professor! This is insane! You do remember that they have Dementors there! Some of the people here can't even produce a corporeal patronus! How are we supposed to fight the Dementors off _and_ dual with the Dark Lord and his best men?" the spy master exclaimed.

"Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, not losing his cool but held a steely gleam in his eyes. "It will not be a man-to-man dual. We will have groups. Some will be holding the Dementors at bay; the others will be dealing with Voldemort."

"Some of the Dementors would be able to stray. What of those? There's so many of them to keep track of all at the same time!"

It was quite entertaining to watch the tennis match between two imposing figures of the order if it weren't for the dire situation. Minerva McGonagall was silent with thin lips, listening and trying desperately to think of a compromise between the men. Arabella Figg was still trying to grasp the situation as she had just been called in from her Muggle home.

"But it is a fair chance of them fighting the Death Eaters too." Hermione suddenly contributed to the conversation. "The Dementors. They want the happy thoughts, so they will attack random people in a fight. In battles, all of us don't have any happy thoughts, and the memories can be pushed into the psyche by an Occlumency potion."

The conversation stopped in front of her. Both men looked at the girl, just turned a woman, in front of them. Professor Dumbledore was beaming widely at her.

"Miss Granger, that is a wonderful idea." He said appraisingly before turning to Snape. "Severus, you've made an inimitable Potion Mistress. I believe that is exactly what we will do. How long does it take to make this potion?"

"About Two weeks. More or less." Severus grunted, still apprehensive of the idea.

"And am I right to suggest that a speeding potion would not affect the outcome of the potion?" the elderly Headmaster asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes." Severus said.

"Do we have any speeding agents though? They are rather hard to come by these days." Arabella Figg asked, speaking up for the first time.

"We have some speeding potions that would allow us to finish the concoction in around five or six days." Hermione said, seeing that her mentor was still against the idea of rescuing Ginny Weasley on the day Lord Voldemort visit Azkaban.

"Yes, I believe you should use those." Dumbledore said with his face pensive. "I trust that you'll begin the potion immediately as I contact some members."

With that, Dumbledore left the room with an uncharacteristic swipe of his robes that oddly resembled Severus's. He then went to the fire place and flooed back to Hogwarts

Severus grunted rudely before storming out of the room and towards the resident Potion lab. He was unhappy about the situation as it was plain to her and everyone else's eyes. He may not have agreed or liked Professor Dumbledore's decision but he wasn't about to defy the elderly wizard's suggestion. It wasn't much of a suggestion than an order, anyways.

Hermione made her ways to follow her mentor to assist him in this task. They would be looking after several cauldrons at the same time. It was always better to have two Potion Masters than one. She was at the door when Professor McGonagall's voice called to her.

"Hermione," she said, her eyes crying out her worries. "Before you go and assist Severus, can you, will you go and check on Harry, please? He's not that…well. He is coping worse than when it was Sirius's death…"

"Of course." Without another word, she left the room and head straight for Harry's room. Severus had been handling several potions at a time for many years; she was sure some time without her to assist him would be fine. The potion can wait a bit.

Her friend needed her.

* * *

A/N: Okies...I'm sorry I made Hermione cry so much...but it is a very distressing time for her to see him again...it is the dam suddenly broke. But don't worry, you'll see Hermione in real action soon! So...what did you think of this chapter? Please review...and get people to read this...I really want to achieve my first 50 reviews (as a be-lated bday prezzy)! Thanks.

Btw, I would like to know if everyone would be okay if I add another person's point of view?! The main focus will be on Draco and Hermione but due to the plot, to maintain a wide point of view, there may be need for another POV. Is everyone okay with that? Maybe just dedicating one or two chapters to their point of view.


	13. Struggle

Disclaimer: poor soul here owns nothing, so all I can do is play around then put them down.

A/N-screams and dodge watever that is thrown at me- Don't kill me! I'm really sorry for not updating it at the correct time! But things get a bit messy when you have more the one doc. sending back and forth. That's why it's so late. Little mistakes which rolled into a big one! This is not a very interesting chapter, if I have to say so myself...But to get things going and actually linking the story better, it is necessary. I'm sorry to those who aren't so fond of Ginny, but she is a functional character in this story (english literature term...my teacher's been drilling me w/ it...so something actually went in). So without much more talking from the babbling authoress, here comes the next beta-ed chap!

**Struggle**

The sun set hours ago. Darkness cloaked the world.

Evil was oppressing.

He could feel it. The cruelty, the will to hurt ebbing in his conscious. Crawling. Infiltrating. Harry felt his mind weakening for the first time since many years ago. He could feel the nasty suggestions penetrating his thoughts. Telling him to be rash. Telling him to follow its voice. To be irrational…dangerous. To save Ginny…NOW!

NO!

Coward.

No. He was not a coward.

Then why wasn't he rescuing her?

He couldn't be rash. Not while everything was at stake.

So Ginny wasn't important?

No. She was.

Was the War more important?

…He didn't know.

Stand. Leave. He must go save her at once.

He stood up.

xxXxx

Hermione knocked on Harry's door.

Silence replied.

He had shut the world out. He did not come out now. He did not eat, nor drink. It had been like this since the news arrived. It was worse than Sirius's death. At least he had eaten then.

She knocked again, hoping that he would snap out of this.

Still there was no sign of movement behind the wooden barrier.

Hermione shook her head, finally giving in to the hope that Harry would open the door. She had stood in front of his door for the last fifteen minutes. She prodded the doorknob with her wand, checking if there were any wards that Harry felt necessary to bring up in order to lock himself away. There wasn't. It seemed that he was in too much shock to have created any. She put her hand on the knob and announced her intrusion.

"Harry I'm coming in."

She wasn't sure if he heard her. If he did, he made no attempt to stop her.

Suddenly, a thought ran across in her mind. Was he even in there? Knowing Harry for all those years, she knew that he could be very rash and irrational.

Hermione quickly pushed the door open and was very thankful that she could still see the messy mob of black hair. However, the determined and reckless look on his face set warning bells off in her head. She watched, silently, as he stared into the space before him. He gripped tightly at Ginny's wand. His eyes were dark. It might be the light. She wished it _was_ the light…not morbid subconscious that attacks at his weakest moments.

"Harry?" she asked, trying to draw his attention and bending down to pick up Harry's wand that lay on the floor.

He didn't hear her. But the conflicting emotions showed on his face. Suddenly, Harry stood up and his hand shot out to find his wand that Hermione held. Not finding his wand beside the night desk, his head turned to the other side of the room. That's when he found the object he needed.

"'Mione, give me my wand." He said, his voice monotonous, as he advanced towards his friend. His face was empty now. Showing no emotions at all.

He was going to be rash. His eyes said so even though his face said otherwise. There wasn't even any subtlety to his plan. She knew that look. She knew _him_. Like the right hand knew the left hand.

"Harry-" Hermione felt like shrinking away from the menacing features on a familiar face. But she stood her ground. She couldn't be weak now. She would not back away. Could not back away.

"Hermione," Harry's face tight with control of his emotions. "I need that."

"She wouldn't want you to do that, Harry. Ginny wouldn't have _let_ you."

Hermione held Harry's wand more tightly in her hand as her wand arm prepared to immobilize her friend if he decided to use any physical means. She watched cautiously, like a trapped alley cat, ready to make a leap. Not to injure. Just to save herself.

"Hermione," Harry gritted out slowly. "You _need_ to give me that."

"No, Harry!" Hermione said firmly. Her voice was steady, contrary to her feelings. "You're not going anywhere."

Harry's eyes narrowed. His hand shot forward to grab for his wand.

"I can bloody well go wherever I wan-"

"Morbilicorpus!"

Harry's body became bound. He writhed violently on the floor, trying to fight off the bindings.

"You're not going anywhere." Hermione said again, steadily while she levitated him into a sitting position on his bed. She moved in front of him and looked into his eyes. Willing him to be reasonable. Willing him to fight off the awful temptation.

"_You_ don't understand!" Harry snapped her. His temper flared. Emotions unleashed.

The glass ornaments in the room burst into sparkling dust. The chair was thrown against the wall with a loud crack.

Mentally, Hermione sighed in relief. Harry was, at the least, reacting to his environment now. She may not like the form of his release, but she'd rather her friend let it out. She braised herself.

"How would _you_ understand? You've always been immersed in your bloody books! You never love _anyone_! How _dare_ you pretend you know what I am feeling!" He screamed at her. His eyes were bright with fury and unshed tears. "You don't know _what_ I'm feeling!"

_That_ stung.

She bit her lips and looked at the space in front of her. Not knowing how to reply.

In a sense, she truly _had_ no idea what he was experiencing. Ginny was ripped from his arm. Kidnapped. He didn't choose for this to happen. They were so in love. Were Draco and her _that_ in love? She didn't know.

She didn't think so.

She wouldn't have given up on him if she did.

"Harry…" she began carefully. Honestly not knowing what to say and how to comfort her friend.

"Look, Hermione, I'm really sorry about what I said. Please forgive me." Harry interrupted her. His voice was calmer now. It lost its edge.

She looked up and saw guilt and worry. _That_ emotion she understood. She smiled reassuringly at Harry. She wasn't _angry_. Just a bit stung. "It's okay, Harry. I promise we'll save her. Promise me you'll stay if I release you?"

Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably. As if weighing his options. "Yes." He said finally.

She smiled and took away the bindings and watched Harry slumped onto the bed. "Harry, we _are_ going to save her. But not now. Professor Snape and I are preparing for the raid. You need to remain calm. Everything will work out. She'll be fine. Have faith in her. She's stronger than you think."

Harry smiled softly from his spot on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He was probably lost in his memories. "That she is." He whispered.

"So you _and _her will be fine. Don't be rash. Think. For her and the war. We can't lose."

"Yes. We can't lose." He said, his eyes closing. Probably resting for the first time since the news had arrived.

Hermione, seeing that her friend was resting, quietly left the room. He needed rest. The burden on Harry was so heavy that it wasn't fair. But then again, nothing was fair. She wasn't bitter about that. She was simply sorry.

"We'll live through this, Hermione, Right? The three of us and the order. We'll live through this."

She stopped on her track to the door. She turned back. Harry didn't open his eyes. He wasn't asleep. Not yet. He stayed motionless on the bed, waiting. On later days, Hermione would wonder whether he was asleep and was sleep talking or was he scared to face the possible future. The dark morbid road ahead.

"Yes. We will. We won't fail. Not in this war."

With that she left Harry to rest.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, it's kind of boring...but please REVIEW! I live on those lil' things you write me! Don't worry, I'll have some action up...soon! Thank you for reading...and i'll bug you faithful readers again...REVIEW! By the way, about the new POV, I haven't receive much comments about it but I've decided to add another POV already! So sorry to those who don't want that. You're welcome to guess who the new female will be! I might tell you! 

REVIEW! (you know, three times the charm)

By the way, allow me to do some shameless advertising, If anyone is wondering where the heck is Neville, i can tell you that he is still alive! And you can find out a little bit about him in my new one-shot/side story"To my Son" -yes, i'm hinting here- He will be in this story soon!

I would also like to mention that my friends and I have started a beta-ing and summerizing aid here. If you wish to have your story beta-ed or need help with the summery or simply need another's opinion, please contact usat anime. 


	14. Torture

Disclaimer: Still own nothing! Yes-_still_- don't.

A/N: Okies, next chapter...Draco centric. It's good, I swear..._fine_...maybe I did rush it a bit...but I promise, it shouldn't be too horrific. Oh, by the way, **this chapter is bit...violent...be warned,**as the chapter title suggests.It should still be able to fit under the PG-13 category...I think. But don't be too freaked or send me flames!

**Torture**

Draco was roused from his dreamless sleep before dawn break. It was the eve of a new year- hopefully the last year of the war. The fight had dragged on for too long. And it was the time to end it. Or else none would survive.

The Dark Lord was not winning, he'd realized lately. He said that he had many troops. Yet he never saw them. The Dementors had no sides. The giants were few, only the outcasts of the tribe had joined him. The trolls were clumsy, normally killed before they could even do the damage worth their weight. The Deatheaters? All fickle.

Yes. They were fickle. _He_ was fickle. Blaise was fickle. Pansy was fickle. They all had personal benefit in this war. Once the benefits were taken…and the fear was removed, few would remain by the Dark Lord. Most would flee.

Like he would.

He had naught but fear now. When he feared _him_ no more, he would surely turn against him.

The Dark Lord may not be aware of it. His crave made him blind. Power had fully corrupted him. He was controlled by Power, not the opposite. He could not stop now.

Draco didn't want that. When he'd first joined his league, he'd wanted power. He'd wanted to be in control. He'd aspired to greatness. To surpass his father.

To be an equal –not a servant.

Something suppressed inside his psyche had been brought out through the different barriers that he'd placed around it. He couldn't push it back down now. That warmth. The bubbling warmth that could kill him as it lured him to make mistakes.

He left his bed and went to the fireplace. Padding the floor with a quiet grace. He rung the bell by the hearth to notify the house elf that he would be expecting his breakfast soon. Then he went to the bathroom.

He stripped off the clothes that he had had on and turned on the water in the shower. The scalding water poured onto him. It was comfortable. It reminded him that he was alive. It also reminded him that he needed warmth…warmth not found here. He smiled bitterly. Stepping out of the shower, he dressed himself in the dark attires that he usually wore.

He left the bathroom after he brushed and shaved. The breakfast was waiting for him on the desk. He sat down and ate. It was like every typical morning in the Dark Lord's manor.

No sun.

No warmth.

No noise.

xxXxx

Noon arrived sooner than he expected. He was reading a book when the mark on his arm burnt. He put his book down. Not even bothered with marking the page. He would never finish the book. Not that he wanted to. It was a book about a girl and her dreams. It was about how she'd labored tirelessly towards it…It was about her happiness, her sorrows, her setbacks…

It was about Hermione. Up until the night before the graduation. Before her dreams were crushed. By him…and _his_ dream.

He'd crushed hers with his.

He grimaced as the dull ache in his arm turned into sharp, piercing pain. He quickened his descent to await the Dark Lord's presence.

At the bottom on the stairs, Pansy and Blaise stood. Both faces blank. The Lestranges were already there. They were tensed with emotions akin to excitement. His father was there too –standing as if he was better than the rest of them. He smirked grimly at the thought and reached his place in the group, awaiting the arrival of the Lord Voldemort. Avery was not present, gone from the elites he suspected, and neither was Millicent here. But it was expected. She was the Dark Lord's new toy. She would be arriving later.

He watched as Millicent descended the stairs regally. She was the Dark Lord's woman now. She delighted in their Lord's attention.

Draco heard his aunt shuffle restlessly. As a former mistress, she thought quite highly of herself. She'd been quite disgruntled when her priority had been taken by an…untried girl who was as equally hungry for power and privilege. He saw Millicent smile smugly at the woman, causing his half-crazed aunt to hiss in restlessness.

Lord Voldemort arrived soon after the Millicent arrived. More pallid than ever in the dark lumbering hulk of clothes. He nodded to them as they greeted him. His crimson eyes squinted, then said in a hiss, "Let us began our cleansing."

With that, the group in the Dark Lord's den apparated to the no longer defended Azkaban.

xxXxx

"Crucio."

The air was wet with the smell of salt and blood.

He watched emotionlessly as the body of the muggle writhed spastically on the cold floor. He saw the man succumb to pain. Howling the agony he fruitlessly tried to control.

He took a quick look at his comrades and the Dark Lord next to him. His Lord was sneering at the powerless man before them. Millicent was laughing gaily at the tortured face. His Aunt was shrieking taunts to the unhearing ear of the muggle while his uncle was nodding approvingly at the new recruit before him who'd cast the spell. His father was fingering his wand as if he was itching to add another spell. Pansy stared at the man in front of her, her mouth stretched into a thin wisp of a smile but composed as always. She was never the one to lose herself in emotions or rush of ecstasy. Blaise stood there, calculating like always. Though his eyes focused on the scene, his thoughts were probably miles away.

The screaming turned hoarse and suddenly died as the man before him slumped and stopped moving. He turned his eyes to the new death eater who ended the curse. The girl, barely a woman, was smirking smugly at the broken man before her with the sparks of ambition in her eyes.

He saw as the Dark Lord branded his mark onto the girl's arm. He watched wordlessly as her face contorted into a soundless scream as she lowered her head to the burnt tissue. When she looked up, the girl's eyes had lost some of its light.

Once the mark had been pierced into the skin, Lord Voldemort turned his back to her and faced them. A thin lipless smile stretched across his face.

"I think I've seen enough of _Amateurs_ today. Why don't we get the _real_ entertainment started?"

At that cue, death eaters that resided in the domain dragged more muggles in. Some young, some old. The Dark Lord sat back into the chair given to him and allowed his best to select their toy. He stood stationary as Millicent bounced to the young man. He observed as the Lestranges quickly dragged an old man and child to start their _fun_. His father, Pansy and Blaise carefully picked, not rushing like the others. When they had chosen, he went to inspect the muggles.

All of them were dressed in rags that once must have been muggle clothing. Their eyes shone brightly for their dim future. He saw an elderly woman looking longingly at the old man and child being tortured in the far corner. Her hands clenched tightly as she muttered a soundless prayer. He could barely make out a few words: 'God, please take their souls into your arms.'

It was her.

He yanked her roughly from the quavering group. Each scream made the muggles shrank together.

He pushed the woman onto the floor before him and cast the Cruciatus. He poured in all his hatred into the curse and willed the woman to scream.

She did.

The old woman screamed with all her might as the curse hit her. He smiled grimly and looked over his shoulder. The old man was already dead. As was the child. The Lestranges were moving over to him. He quickly cast a glance at the woman on the floor as blood seeped from her earlier wounds. He stopped the curse…

"Avada Kedavra."

And killed her.

At times like this, the hatred he exerted surprised him. The will to hurt overflows from the tip of his wand.

"Draco…" His aunt whined as she approached. "Why did you kill that filth so soon. It has barely begun."

"She is not worth it." He replied evenly.

"Aww…" A glint appeared in Bellatrix eyes as she mocked. "Is wittle Drakie going soft? Is he going to run back to mommy now?"

"Aunt, I think I am qualified to decide when to kill _my_ toy." Draco continued calmly but with a steely glint that challenged his relative to defy him.

His aunt caught the look and bit her lips. She wasn't about to challenge her nephew who was in favor of her Lord. Instead, she turned towards Lord Voldemort and began her whining.

"My Lord…Draco…Draco just killed the woman. There was no torture, no taunts…"

The Dark Lord turned his beady red eyes on him.

"Did you now?"

"Yes, sire." He answered honestly, lowering his head to the one he feared.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"My Lord," Draco said carefully. "She wasn't worth my time. Too frail. Already broken. Too lost in fear."

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Is that not what we try to achieve here? To make these scum fearful of us."

The undertone was not lost to Draco. His Lord was a suspicious man. His aunt had planted seeds of doubt. Quite successful but lacked subtlety.

"Yes, my Lord. But she was broken already. I like my toys…willful and…fighting. It is the second their hope dies that I relish in." He smirked as he easily brought himself back from the disgrace that his aunt tried to put him in.

The red eyes stared at him then nodded. "Very well. Let us not dwell on the death of an insignificant speck of dirt. We have more…delightful company to make."

With that, Lord Voldemort walked off. Walking comfortably in the filthy domain and the never-ending wailings of the captives.

They followed him and came to a cell deep within the heart of the seized establishment. Pettigrew stood guard before the door. As he saw the Dark Lord approached he stood up straight then bowed stiffly at the company presented before him.

Pansy stepped forward and waved to Pettigrew, telling him to present them the occupant within the door. The death eater did so eagerly and quickly, trying to gain favor through them.

The door creaked open dramatically. Echoing through the empty hall. Away from the screams. A Place for the majesty of the damned.

Dull red flashed into his vision.

* * *

A/N: Don't kill me! I hope that the fact that it was a bit rushed did not show in my chapter! And I did say that it was a bit violent in the beginning...so don't kill me if it...errr...shocked (?) you! Thanks for reading! Please review! Review! Review! 

Some shamelss ads (again)! Please check out 'To my Son' and my friends and I are offering beta-ing and summerizing (that'd most likely be my job and beta-ing my friends') assisstance for any authors who are in need! You can contact us at anime.

Chinese New Year for those who celebrate it!


	15. Preparation

Disclaimer: Owns nothing at all...oh...but the plot's mine!

A/N: Hi peeps...This is about half a day later than when I'd normally post it...but I hope it doesn't make any difference...I figure that I can't spell today...so I'll just keep this sort...i mean short...enjoy! Oh, I nearly forgot, thanks for all the reviews! At the rate, you people are reviewing, I might make it to 100 before i know it!

**Preparation**

Snape and Hermione had barely left the resident lab since the Occlumency potion started about five days ago. They had taken turns to rest and had eaten scant meals under the instructions of Minerva McGonagall who had turned out to be Molly Weasley's equal in more than one aspect.

The potion was finally finished at noon of December thirty-first. Just in time for Lord Voldemort's visit to Azkaban. They could only hope that Voldemort would try to get information out of Ginny and not kill her immediately.

She knew the torturous means that they'd use…but Ginny was stronger than what everyone thought. She knew it and knew that she would withstand almost anything.

"Severus," Hermione said quietly as they bottled up the potion. Her face was pensive, betraying no emotions. "Mind potions don't clash with shape shifting potions, right?"

Snape looked at her wearily. From the tone of her voice, he could almost see the dangerous idea ready to burst from her brain. It was always like this: her brilliant ideas were _always_ the most hazardous. Simple. Dangerous. And effective.

"No." he replied simply and truthfully. There was no point in lying, he was well aware that Hermione knew the answer already and was barely asking for a solid confirmation. "What do you have in mind?"

"Do we have any polyjuice?" she ignored her mentor's question.

A plan had formed in her mind since she'd left Harry's room that night. They needed more than a surprise element to win this raid…and eventually the war. They needed deception. They needed to blind, to confuse the minions of Voldemort. That was what had made Dumbledore and Moody the greatest leaders- the ability to deceive.

The strength to be a single unit.

To be independent.

To stand alone amongst comrades.

She must stand alone in this.

"Yes." Severus replied slowly. "What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing. Just going through the text book in my head." She said calmly, turning her back on him and putting the vial on the worktop.

She felt the stare of Severus on her back and blatantly avoided it. She wasn't about to tell him her plans and was glad that he didn't press her for answers. Severus would try to stop her. She knew it. She would've stopped herself too. But it was necessary. To allow them to win.

She needed to carry out her plan. As Ginny's confident. As Ron's strategic mind. As Harry's shield.

She would be Harry's shield.

His buffer.

The one who would have all the attention.

The woman that would bask in the limelight tonight.

xxXxx

They'd quickly cleared the lab and went to report their completion of the potion.

They were scattered around the house. All were trying to get on with whatever that they were doing –what they had been assigned to do. But Hermione still felt their attention on her exhausted body. They were all concerned with the progress of the potion.

Especially for the younger or least experienced ones, like Dung and Ron, who were unable to cast a full Patronous.

At times like this, she truly saw how weak their forces could be against the Dark Lord.

At times like this, she felt useless, unable to change the facts.

At times like this, she felt weary of the war.

They shouldn't be worrying about whether they were able to cast a corporeal Patronous or not. They should be worrying about work. They should be worrying about their dinner tonight. They should be worrying about whether they had a date or not.

Not a _bloody_ charm or a _substituting_ potion.

Hermione shook her head mentally. It wasn't time for her to dwell on what should have been.

Severus and she found Moody and Harry sitting in chairs in the kitchen. They were conversing about something, something that her tired mind didn't even bother to listen to. Moody saw them first, even though his back was turned.

"Ya done, Snape?" the auror growled and without waiting for an answer, he added. "About bloody time too."

Moody and Harry turned and saw them. Stress was written across Harry's face. His stare was intense and of anticipation. He was waiting for the potion to go and rescue Ginny.

"Well?" Harry asked expectantly.

"It still has to cool down. For the potion to have its full potency." Snape sighed.

"But…" Harry started. His brows furrowed. He was obviously expecting to leave right now. Hermione couldn't really blame him. Anyone would have wanted to save their lover.

"So, the mission starts later in the afternoon. Both of you had better go rest. You'll need your strength. But constant vigilance." Moody interrupted in a tone that left no room for argument.

With that, the two potion masters went upstairs. Hermione parted with her mentor at the top of the stairs, where Severus made his way to his room at the opposite end of the house. Hermione dragged her tired body across the hallway. Going as quietly as she could manage.

She stopped in front of a closed door and prodded the knob gently to test for wards. None were detected. She turned the knob and walked in. Hermione found what she was looking for with relative ease.

With a grim smile, she left the room, closing the door softly and entering the room across the hall for her much deserved rest.

Let the light shine on her tonight.

xxXxx

When she woke up, it was dusk. The potion should be ready soon. She quickly refreshed herself and went down to search for Severus Snape, but not before making sure the polyjuice with the piece of raven hair dissolved inside was safe within her pocket.

Few of the people who would be participating in the raid had arrived and were prepared to floo to Hogwarts via its only link (many not being accessible to the Black house). Tonks and Lupin were amongst the first to arrive. She gave the two of them small greetings and went on her search for Severus. She saw him across the room and made her way to him.

"Severus." she greeted him.

The potion master nodded, standing up from his seat and joining her in the walk to the lab.

"I will not be participating in this; you do remember the duration of the brew?" he said in the lab as they collected enough portions for the members that were going to meet secretly on the grounds of Hogwarts and then leave in the Forbidden forest.

"Yes." Hermione said as they carried the potion to the living room and followed the people who were there and flooing to Hogwarts.

Most of them were to go to Dumbledore's office. But Snape, Hermione and normally…Ginny would floo to Snape's with the potions or other equipment; then they would leave under Harry's invisibility cloak. Since Ginny was missing, Tonks had come along for the cloak which could only hide two more women.

Hogwarts was a different place at night. She had known it for years. In the morning, the castle was a school, a place of hope and joy…but at night it was romantic…with softly glowing windows…and eerie at the same time. Shadowed by tales. Stories of forgotten youths…yet-to-be-achieved dreams…haunting memories…and even death.

She heard Tonks sigh. Was she thinking the same thought as her?

She didn't really care. Not now. But maybe. Maybe one day, she would share this place with someone again. Someone that wouldn't break her heart. Someone who wouldn't leave her.

Tonks and Hermione quickly made their way to the forbidden forest hidden underneath the cloak. All the people who were involved had already arrived. They each handed the small vials out while Moody shouted.

"Take this! It has the same effect as the Occlumency. It'll protect you from the Dementors. But constant vigilance! Be sure to leave as soon as it wears off! Everyone leave, okay! I'll not have any of you playing Hero!"

Through Moody's speech, Hermione parted with Tonks and left to find her best friends with Harry's cloak and their potions. She found them at the far end of the group, deep within the forest.

Harry was less jumpy then he had been in the afternoon, she noted. Maybe because the long waited moment was here. Ron was there too. His face was grim. No smiles or laughs had been heard from him for the last couple of days. He was probably the most devastated of the entire Weasley family.

Hermione approached them. She handed the invisibility cloak to Harry and whispered, "Get under it as soon as you can. Your priority is to save Ginny. Anything else can wait."

Harry nodded and took the cloak as well as the vial.

She turned to Ron, with a soft smile on her face. "For Ginny, okay?"

Ron nodded, took the vial and drank the content in one go with a pinched face.

Hermione grinned. He was never the one for potions. Something had yet to change. And she was glad for that. She didn't know what she would do if all those she held dear became different.

"Hey, just a twist and a flick. Kick their ass and come back here for butterbeer, alright?" Harry said after he had downed his potion in a gulp.

It was hardly their case. They were running headlong into a clash with Voldemort in his territory tonight. But Hermione wouldn't have had it any other way. They would walk out of this _together_.

"Of course." Hermione said smiling next to him.

"I can have something stronger, right mate?" Ron asked with his first grin since Ginny's capture on his face.

The trio grinned at each other.

And with that they apparated to Azkaban.

To fight a raid where only a scant few will emerge unscathed.

Many would die tonight.

* * *

A/N: Don't kill me! I know they're not together yet and I'm so sorry that this story has such a slow pace! It'll get there, I promise! Please review, review, review! Thanks! 

Is my chapters getting longer? I think it is...hmmm...


	16. Thoughts

Disclaimer: Nope. I only own the plot

A/N-laughs nervously- Sorry it's late...again! But I've been working on it, honestly! I can already see the evils glares and hate mails that will be addressed to me! Yes, this is the next chapter and yes, it's probably not what you've been expecting! So please don't kill me...that is if you want me to keep writing! I would like to dedicate this chapter to **Monkeystarz** as it's her b-day just a couple of days before...and...without further rambling from this authoress...I'll present you Chapter 16...and our new POV!

**Thoughts**

She had grown up with him. Childhood friends they were. But now, she loved him. Not as one would love a friend and confident. She loved him as Draco, a man. The protective and caring man that she had caught a glimpse of. The compassionate and loving man that she wanted for herself.

She had always been there for him. As he had been there for her in her most desperate times. She clung to his very words. In childhood, their relationship was playful. They were the knight and the princess from fairy tales. They were always one in the end. She had admired him then. He had always stood up for her…before her parents and his parents. Always defending her, like a true hero.

She still remembered the day that she first found out that she loved him. It was the morning of her eleventh birthday but her owl had never arrived. Draco's owl came at dawn on his birthday. He woke up with the owl peering at him. He told her so. But hers was nowhere to be seen. The money her parents left for her to buy her school supplies was there. But the letter was not. Her nursemaid had tried to comfort her. But the woman's words had done more harm than good.

She remembered that she had sobbed, fearing that she would never receive the letter. Until Draco had arrived. Like he promised. Draco found her, in tears, and he asked her what was amiss. He then comforted her, reassuring her that the owl was bound to arrive. He told her that she was a wonderful witch. Not the haughty tone that he used in Hogwarts. Just the calm, confident voice that he'd already possessed at that age.

Her owl had arrived later after Draco had left. That night, she decided that she was in love with him. She had decided that she would stand by him and be with him. Always.

That was why she was sorted into Slytherin. To be there for him like he had for her. The Sorting Hat thought she would do well in Ravenclaw…or much to her dismay, Hufflepuff. But she had insisted and the Sorting Hat gave way.

As they grew and they changed, She became what he wanted her to be. The Queen of Slytherin. Beautiful. Shallow. Emotionless. Just like his mother- neither happy nor sad. She never asked but she knew that was what he wanted. A woman he could use, to look good with and push aside when he saw fit. She had always crawled back to him.

Millicent had asked her many a time when she came back crying, sobbing her heart out after Draco had pushed her aside: Was he worth it? Did he ever give her what her heart desired?

'_Of course!'_

That had always been her answer. It had been her answer all those year. And it would be her answer for time to come. May it be hard or easy for her. She had decided to follow Draco and she would do just that. She had had that awful mark burnt on her skin.

She did it to show loyalty to Draco.

Not her family.

She worked her way through the ranks to reach Draco. He had always been the top. She worked her way to him. Not the Lord Voldemort. She was cruel for Draco. She followed what Draco believed.

And believed it herself too.

The purity of Blood.

Draco should be proud of her.

xxXxx

Torturing was neither a difficult nor an easy thing to her. She tortured to survive. She tortured to stay in the grace of the Dark Lord. She tortured because she believed what Draco said they were- Mudbloods and Muggle, scum on earth.

Pansy watched the woman writhe on the floor. Her screams never reached her. It used to. But not anymore. She had grown numb. She had a switch now. A switch that turned her emotions off in these situations. She had no feelings now.

She saw the woman stopped writhing on the floor. She didn't know whether the woman was dead or not. She left the muggle there. On the floor, liked a finished toy. She turned towards Draco. She had always turned to him.

Draco was conversing with their Lord, their leader. A smirk adorned his confident face. He said something, which she could not hear from her place. She watched as the Dark Lord smiled. A sadistic smile that promised many things. Then Lord Voldemort turned and Draco followed. She went with them. Along with the rest of the Dark Lord's best.

The hallway they were led through was dark. Different wards that was never found in the scantly guarded ground was lowered. This person that they were meeting was important, she deduced. Wards were never raised in here. The Death Eaters, if not the Dementors, tormented the captives enough to rip them of the strength to escape.

At the end of the corridor, stood Pettigrew. Guarding the cell. He bowed respectfully at the Dark Lord and them.

"Who's in there, Pettigrew?" she asked stepping forward.

"Why, a valuable prize. A very valuable prize, Miss Parkinson." An oily smile appeared on his face as he opened door.

It was a woman. A chained woman with red hair. A Weasley. Blood Traitor. Potter's slut.

"Welcome to our humble abode." Lord Voldemort cackled as the door closed behind them. "I hope our treatments for you were up to standard."

The Weasley did not reply. She remained silent but stared defiantly at the Dark Lord's eyes.

"Well, silent, are we?" the Dark Lord said. "I could remedy that."

"I'd like to see you try, Tom." The redhead hissed, glaring at their Lord.

There was a surprised gasp from the elder Death Eaters.

"My Lord, she mocks you!" Bellatrix Lestrange screeched loudly.

"Bellatrix, silence." Draco ordered, earning a nod of approval from the Dark Lord and a harsh glare from his aunt.

"Now, Ginny." Lord Voldemort. "You know what I want from you. Please be cooperative."

The chained woman sneered at him. And looked away. As if their Lord was not worth her time. Even Draco did not dare to look away. But this woman, a blood traitor…the weak link of the wizarding world, _looked away_.

"Crucio."

The interrogation began.

xxXxx

The woman said nothing.

She did not scream. Or moan.

She just breathed heavily.

Each breath was an action of labor. But the blood traitor drew it in with all she had.

"Why don't you just tell us." Pansy said as she lifted her curse.

It was her turn to interrogate her. Each of them had tried to get a reaction from her…and then obtain some information. It was always a ladder, the one who has most use to the Dark Lord at the top, the ones with the least at the bottom…or dead on the floor.

Weasley still glared boldly at her. She then spat in her direction, clearly expressing her thoughts.

"Pansy," Millicent's voice was heard beside her. "It's my turn. Let me pry her mouth open."

She turned to her friend. Yes, she could call Millicent a 'friend'. They aimed for different things, therefore they were never in each other's way. A thin smile was on Millicent's face. Strained emotions were seen. As if she was trying to bottle in her excitement. She probably was.

She stepped away from the redhead on the floor and looked out of the little window in the cell. The Weasley was truly privileged, to have a small opening in Azkaban. It was night already, meaning they were in here for hours…

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Pettigrew, stuttering. "My Lord, there's…there's visitors…I think it's Potter. They're probably here for the girl."

The occupants of the room tensed. It was the first confrontation since a while. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Millicent chaining the redhead up again, the Lestranges' hunger and lust flashed on their faces, Lucius Malfoy's eyes gleaming…only Draco…and Blaise remained unchanged.

"You shall have some company soon." The Dark Lord sneered menacingly at the Weasley, before turning around and made his way back to the main hall. Millicent, Draco's father and the Lestranges followed his lead.

"Guard her." Draco ordered Pettigrew and turned too. He walked pass Blaise and her, saying softly. "Be careful."

With that he quickened his pace to join the fight.

She followed him. That was the Draco she loved. The caring and loyal man beneath all the walls he put around himself. She would be strong for him. She would hurt for him. She would kill for him.

Everything she'd done was for him.

For him.

Always.

* * *

A/N: Not what you've been expecting, right? Please review...it'd probably get me working faster on the next chapter! So, what do you think of Pansy, I'm sorry if you dont' like her...but she does have a large...well not large but important role in the story! So listen to the call of the violet/blue button down on the left hand side...you know you want to! 

P.S. So, Monkeystarz, what do you think? I know you're not the biggest fan of Ginny (understatement) so I hope you don't mind seeing so much of her in this chapter!


	17. Raid

Disclaimer: Don't own any characters or things you recognize, besides the plot

A/N: Well...it's getting close...you can do a count down to when the Hermione and Draco meet again...But for some reasons...I can sense a murder in my future...or maybe tonnes of flame...well, we'll see then. And no, I'm talking about this chapter. I was talking about the next chapter(s). Enjoy but don't forget to review!

**Raid **

Azkaban was dark, cold and desolate. An isolated land in the middle of a vast ocean.

Just like how she'd imagined this horrid place to be. Reeking with sins.

Azkaban used to be a place unable to plot on a map. Only the highest ranking aurors and the head of the Magical Law and Enforcement Department knew where it was. And only during their years when they were involved in the department, for after their retirement, the memory was erased. Azkaban was a secret place…the exact opposite of Avalon. Though shrouded with mist too, Azkaban brought dread, not bliss.

A man was truly stranded here. No doors. No roads. No hope.

Abused by guilt.

Hermione shivered and felt Harry's hand patting her shoulder. He had always put others before himself. Comforting and providing: Harry had had to give up so much for them. But not tonight. She wouldn't let him. He would not have to give up anything tonight. Tonight, the choices were hers to make, not his. She was the judge. The final verdict.

"Remember, Harry." She looked at him. "Save Ginny. She's the priority. Tonight is about saving Ginny. Okay?"

Harry nodded and quickly slipped under his invisibility cloak. Disappearing from everyone's sight…except maybe Moody's.

It was all about plans. Plans over plans. Deceptions over deceptions. They were all pawns in their own right. Controlled. Manipulated by others.

Harry _was_ supposed to go under the invisibility cloak. It was Moody's orders. They would try to create enough distraction that _hopefully_ the Death Eaters would not notice his absence until he had rescued Ginny or the members came to back him up. Hopefully.

She knew it wouldn't work. They knew it too. Harry was the main target in every raid and battle. His absence would be noticed immediately by the Dark Lord and his elites.

They had no choice.

But Harry's attendance was not optional.

So she had to do something. That's where her plan came in. She would act as Harry's decoy. That was acting hero. That was doing what Moody told them not to do. That was breaking the orders and rules. But no one would notice. They'd be too busy fighting. Things would work out for the benefit of the Order.

…And of course, she would find _him_ easier as Harry.

Voldemort, being the coward he was, would surely send him out to weaken Harry first; before attempting to finish Harry off.

She, knowing this, was manipulating Harry and Moody, just so she could confront him. Yes, tonight was not just about Ginny. It was about letting go. It was about drawing the final curtains to their fairytale. It was about fate.

It was all for the best.

The gate to Azkaban burst opened with a bang by the grenades that Mundungus provided. Moody ran headlong into the prison. Leading the rest of them.

She felt a wisp of wind beside her and a voice softly whisper, "Please be careful."

Harry left.

She turned to Ron. He had his wand out already and was looking expectantly at her.

"Don't get hurt, alright?" Ron said softly. Tenderness shone softly in his eyes. "Won't know what to do without you bossing me around."

With that he took off. Sprinting to the hellhole.

"You too." She whispered to the thin air. "Please be safe."

xxXxx

He was nowhere to be seen. She had tried to catch a flash of platinum in the midst of darker colors. He had the lightest hair of the people she knew. The fairest color. A contradiction of his deeds. His paradox.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione breathed heavily in the damp cold air. It was musky with the smell of rot and blood.

She hid behind a niche or an unknown corridor after she took out another Death Eater. She was covered in sweat…and blood. After all, the killing curse was not the only curse to turn an opponent invalid. Her clothes were baggy as was intended. But the drenched fabric glued onto her body was a burden.

The fight had been going on for at least an hour. Harry had, hopefully, gone to search for Ginny. She had lost Ron and the others in the havoc. The Dementors had proofed to be an obstacle. Although, the potion prevented them from attacking them, the fear was still present. The crawling cold was still there. In their hearts.

She looked out of her corner discreetly and make sure that she would not be attacked in the next few minutes.

She turned back into her spot and dug her wand-less hand into her pocket. Hermione pulled the vial out. She skillfully uncapped it with one hand and drank the potion while keeping a close watch of the entrance to the on going battle beyond the darkened hall.

Hermione felt the changes almost immediately. She felt new strength growing in her body. She felt the stretch in her limbs. She felt the bones and cartilages in her face shift as her hair became short and messy. Finally, she felt her sight blurred.

She transfigured the vial in her hand into a pair of glasses and placed the accessory on her nose.

She took the image of Harry Potter.

A perfect distraction for Harry.

A more dangerous dueler.

She had less to lose.

She peered out of the corner and quickly took care of the Death Eater who came her way. A soft and definite 'Diffindo' to end the person. She had learnt long time ago that the killing curse brought enormous emotional strain as the green light fed on the strong passion of the caster. Not only hate, but love too.

A love for the enemy.

Tonight, she had a love strong enough to kill.

She took a deep breath to suppress the building emotions in her body and headed out of the niche. No one noticed her at first. They were too immersed in their own fight. She observed. And once again, searched.

Her golden demon.

She found him in the gap that chance gave her. And found a friend too. A bloodied friend, who was fighting with all he had. Her friend limped and heaved before dropping to the ground while _he_ looked passively at the man. With no compassion. Like a puppet. Readied to strike again.

Remus!

She ran to Remus but was stopped by a spell aimed at her. She hastily dodged it and found a figure barring her way with a wand. Hermione glared at the body. She assumed that it was a woman from slim built.

"Potter." The familiar voice said.

"Parkinson." She acknowledged. Without further words exchanged, she flung a spell at the woman who blocked her way. "Expelliarmus."

Parkinson's wand left her hands as she was thrown backwards by the impact of Hermione's spell. She recovered quickly and made a quick dash after her wand, but before she could reach it to defend herself, Hermione sent another spell her way. The severing spell. She watched Parkinson evade the spell at the last moment to avoid the fatal hit but the spell managed to wound her side.

Seeing that moment of weakness, Hermione cast the body bind spell at Parkinson before casting the woman out of her way unceremoniously with the Reductor spell.

She returned immediately to her former goal. Remus was shuddering on wet and soiled floor. Trying to keep his dignity in that disparaged state. She watched in well disguised horror as _his_ wrist flicked into the Homorphus Charm.

She quickly cast a banishing charm on Draco's wand and watched in satisfaction as his wand flew far away. She went over to Remus while, out of the corner of her eyes, keeping a close look on the blond who equally kept a close look at her as he headed for his wand.

Remus was close to delirious. His body convulsed. She quickly checked for his vital signs but was interrupted.

"Well, Potter." Draco drawled as he retrieved the wand the she had banished from his grip. "I see you're here to save the werewolf. Or is it your beloved slut?"

Hermione stiffened.

She had been expecting those words. Those taunts. But it still surprised her. She wanted to ask- 'Was this the same man she fell in love with?' 'Was this the Draco she knew?'

But before she could. She found herself answers.

No.

Draco was dead.

He had died.

A long, long time ago.

* * *

A/N: Well, I just had to stop there! Call me evil, or whatever you want...actually on second thought...don't. I'm a very fragile soul (cough cough), although I do have a huge ego. So what do you think? Review, Review, Review. (Feel the call of the blue/lavender button!) 

Next Chapter's going to be Draco-centric!


	18. Blood

Disclaimer: Same old line...I don't think I need to repeat

A/N: evil laughs yes, I survived the exam! And here's the next chapter! This is sort of rushed because I had chapter 19 done first...and I can't post chapter 19 before I post 18 (sorry, jillz, for spoiling it for you!)! I want to thank those who reviewed for the last chapter! I'm sorry that some of them are really late! Also to those who didn't get a reply from me, i.e.: the ones who didn't leave an email address...I want to thank you for your support!

So...I'll stop babbling...

**Blood**

He would admit that he had been careless. He had been too concentrated…or maybe over confident. He truly had no competent rivals in dueling on Dumbledore's side except Potter. And Herm- Granger.

He hadn't expected Potter to come to him. He'd thought he would follow the Dark Lord in locking the Weasley into that cell with his sister. But apparently not.

Potter had chosen fighting instead of rescuing.

He chose to win the war instead of the battle.

Draco retrieved his wand while keeping a close eye on Potter's bent body. Potter kept an eye on him too. Sizing each other up. Seemingly satisfied with what they saw. When he picked up the piece of wood, he found Blaise readied to join this fight.

"Pansy got hurt." Draco said to Blaise, who lowered his wand quickly. No further words were needed. Blaise headed to find the woman.

He turned back to Potter.

This was one of the many important tasks the Dark Lord entrusted him.

And he would complete it.

Not for Lord Voldemort.

But for himself.

He would do it for himself. He must find a peace that he lacked since he became active in the Death Eater's ranks.

He quickly cast a ward around their arena. It would be nice to be able to kill Potter. Yet it was the Dark Lord's order. He would not be pleased if some stray spells finish Potter's annoyingly defiant life.

"Potter. It's us again." He drawled out at his opponent as he approached. "History loves to repeat itself."

"It likes it a little too much for my taste." He drawled as he quickly cast a protection charm around Lupin. Preventing further damage.

How thoughtful…and foolish.

The end of this damn war was closer than he'd previously thought. All he had to do was damage him enough and deliver The Boy-who-lived to his Lord. He smirked at that thought. He could almost touch the finish line.

He hurled a stunning spell at him.

Potter blocked with a fluid movement that even he, an opponent, had to admire.

"You seriously underestimate me, Malfoy." The black haired man spat. "I'm stronger than you."

"We'll see." He returned. "Let's see what you'll have to say once your slut is taken care of. You know, Lestrange loves them willful. He likes to break them. To see them fall apart…bit by bit. He likes to see the blood dripping from their ragged bodies."

Potter sent a leg-logging jinx then asked coolly. "Is that what you do to Parkinson? No wonder that whore looks no better than a house-elf."

Draco made no reply. But sent another curse.

"Protego."

"Experlliarmus!"

Getting started.

xxXxx

Both of them were tiring. But neither's pace slowed. One mistake would be an end. Both of them knew it so they fought with the same fierceness they started with.

Amateur spells thrown at each other. Damaging enough to be wary of but not enough to cause serious harm.

The Dark Lord arrived. From the corridor behind him. He could feel him behind his back. If he hadn't, he would know too, seeing the stiffening of Potter. The slight jerk of his wand.

"Well, well, well" the Dark Lord hissed, swirling a broken and battered wand on his fingers. Potter seemed to recognize the wand and glared. "So you recognize this. How does it fell, to know that you're friends are all dying for you? To know that the lives of your two precious Weasleys are on the snap of my finger?"

Potter glared and did not reply.

"How will you feel, when your other mudblood slut dies in the hands of young Malfoy here?"

He showed no emotion while Potter's continued to stared poison into the Dark Lord's pallid form behind him.

"Malfoy, continue." The Dark Lord ordered, seating himself in a regal seat.

He did.

Spells clashed with spells.

The air sizzled with energy.

Long gone was the time of testing each other.

Long gone were the taunts.

Complicated dark curses flew back and forth.

Some of them so ancient and morbid that he did not even recognize them.

Their bodies anointed with sweat.

Air smoldered in their lungs as they breathed laboriously.

Their footsteps and spells telling a story of war.

"Diffindo." Two voices said.

A spell from him.

A spell from the Dark Lord in his seat.

Potter's eyes widened as he dodged unceremoniously out one of the spell's way. But the other severing spell cut his shoulder. He dropped to his knees from the impact. His wand dropped from his injured limb.

Blood seeped through his clothes. Making his dark clothes even darker. His face steadily paled.

"It comes to an end like this." The Dark Lord said triumphantly. "You're going to die. The Weasley will join you soon. And the Mudblood…what good is she?"

Potter made no reply as he gasped for breath. He slowly pushed himself backwards. Towards Lupin's fallen body. Dragging his wand with him.

"You want to be next to the werewolf?" The Dark Lord asked, his eyes gleaming. "Let me help you."

Draco watched as the limp body of Lupin was flung in Potter's way. The body crashed into Potter. Trapping him. He watched Potter moved from underneath the werewolf, hand clutching his wand. He watched as the Dark Lord sent the Cruciatus.

He watched, because it was coming to an end.

Potter convulsed spastically under the spell. But refused to scream. Refused to succumb to mortal pain. Refused to show weakness. Refused to admit the defeat of his body and mind.

He gripped the hem of Lupin's robe tightly. Potter bit into his lip so hard that it bled. The blood dripped. Crimson drops. Not at all different from his own blood. Or anyone's blood.

The curse was lifted.

Potter heaved. As all victims of the curse did. His body slumped forwards. Like all his foregoers. But then, there was a misty glow of satisfaction in his eyes. He smirked. He smirked through his bloodied state at the Dark Lord.

And before his eyes, Potter's body mutated.

Clothes became baggy as the muscle shrunk. A soft curvy rise appeared where a flat chest had been moments before.

No.

The glasses dropped. Green eyes turned caramel.

No.

The scattered blackness on his head lengthened and lightened. Curly and messy tendrils appeared.

No.

Hermione.

_NO!_

His lover, wounded, bloodied but still prideful, appeared in Potter's place. He watched the woman force her bleeding arm to move. She sent a blinding spell at the Dark Lord who was too shocked to protect himself for a moment. He understood the Dark Lord's feelings. Victory slipped out of his very grasp.

Dread raised in his heart.

A painful reality crashed into him.

It was time.

"KILL HER!" The Dark Lord screeched.

"Silcencio."

It was aimed at him.

He watched, mutely. Eyes wide with horror, or was it sadness, as her hand danced the deadly steps. He felt his eyes stinging from the strain of staring at her gliding wand.

The thin thread between them snapped. Leaving them stranded.

Her face. The peace. In his forgotten year. It flashed brightly in his mind.

He was stranded in the darkness of the past.

Alone.

Empty.

Dead.

"Avada Kedavra."

* * *

A/N: I'm evil, I'll admit it...it must be my inner scorpio...(that'd be what my beta would say) So what do you think is going to happen next! You're welcome to guess...but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you anything -grins-.I'll stop my waffling here...but REVIEW! Please! Please! PLEASE! I'm so close to my first 100th!

P.S. I'll make the next chapter extra good...-hint, hint-


	19. Death

Disclaimer: Same drills...don't own anything but the plot

A/N: I've made it to my first 100! Thank you so much for reviewing and all your support/encouragement for me! I'm speechless with gratitude! This is the chapter that I've writtened before chapter 18, and I deem it as my best chapter so far! Please don't flame me at the end of this, I'll keep to the promise I made in the beginning. I'd also like to dedicate this chapter to **abbi** as it's her b-day soon, and this is the prezzy that I can give her, being the poor student that I am!

**Death**

She'd barely dodged fatal blow that Potter sent her. It was the first time she'd ever dueled Potter. She had forgotten that Potter was more or less an equal to Draco in dueling.

Pain seared through her side as her body stiffened under another spell.

She felt her body soar through the air. Before she knew it, she collided with a piece of structure from the building.

She watched helplessly as Potter made his way to Draco who seemed unaware of his approach.

She wanted to yell out to Draco.

But darkness consumed her. A blissful blackness took over her pains.

xxXxx

A pair of warm, comforting arms picked her up.

A man's embrace.

It was Draco. She knew it was Draco.

She could live in those arms for all eternity.

She could feel his love.

She felt Draco apparate.

Then she resumed her rest in his arms as she snuggled closer to the warmth.

xxXxx

Her dreams were drenched with pain and blood.

Draco had appeared in her dream.

Just beyond her reach.

Horror unfolded before her eyes.

And she, struggling with all her might, was rooted in her place. Unable to move. Unable to help.

She watched feebly as spell after spell pierced her lover's body.

She watched blood, his pure and crimson blood flow from his wounds.

She cried out his name. She tried to find the bastard that was hurting Draco.

But she saw nothing in the darkness and blood.

Suddenly, the spells stopped.

Draco dropped. Smiling sadly at her. Accusing her.

She screamed a silent scream.

xxXxx

It had been pain. It was pain that she noticed first when she jolted up from her pillow.

Draco dying. It had all been a horrible nightmare.

Thank heavens above that it had been a nightmare!

She then noticed that she was in her room. Back at the Dark Lord's lair.

"You're awake." A familiar voice commented with relief.

She turned her head stiffly to the speaker and saw Blaise.

It was Blaise. Not Draco.

He sat there looking at her softly, like he always did.

Pansy looked around the room and noticed that is was not early. From the shadow her body cast on the bed, she assumed it was the afternoon.

"Where's Draco?" she asked. Her voice was dry and hoarse from the lack of water and probably the dream as well. But she needed to know where Draco was. Just to prove that it had been a nightmare.

"You've been asleep for a whole day." Blaise said, fully ignoring her question, and handing her a glass of water, which she drank greedily to soothe her parched throat.

"Blaise-"

"You haven't been out for long. Bellatrix Lestrange is still out. So I guess you're fine. But you should still rest a bit." Blaise said, as if Pansy had not spoken. "You should be more careful than that. I mean, running head on with Potter. You're really good with dueling. But Potter gives a whole new level to powerful-"

"Where's Draco?"

Blaise, stiffened a bit, then began again, "As I was saying-"

"_Where's Draco?" _

Her dream slowly returning to her.

"I don't know." Blaise sighed, looking at the wall at the far end of the room.

"Of course you know!" Pansy reasoned. "He's your best friend!"

"There's no such thing as 'best friends'." He said emotionlessly. "I have no best friend."

"That's a _lie_." She retorted. "You talk to him more than you talk to Millicent or me. When the two of you are not on missions, the two of you discuss whatever it is that you two talk about. Millicent and I are your friends. But Draco is your _best_ friend."

"I don't know where he is." Blaise replied firmly.

"Blaise, is he on some mission again? I need to talk to him about this…this dream I had."

"You can talk to me, you know." He tried.

"You won't understand. The dream was about him." Pansy said nonchalantly, absolutely unaware of Blaise's expression. "Will you please get him for me. I know he's busy and-"

"He's dead." Blaise blurted out. His eyes downcast. Trying to hide his feelings.

Pansy looked sharply at him.

She remained silent, trying to decide what she should do to convince him to tell her. She didn't understand why he felt necessary to stop her from seeing her love. Draco couldn't be dead. Draco was…immortal and mortal. He was collected even in the messiest fights. He remained clean and composed even when everyone's hair was thick with dirt and blood. He was untouchable, unattainable. Yet, in moments, she could see the man. The man that could get hurt. The man who cared.

"No." She said firmly, staring at Blaise, willing him to tell the truth. "No, Blaise, that's not the answer."

"He is." Blaise insisted, unable to meet her pleading eyes.

"No." Pansy shook her head from her position on the bed. She attempted to smile coyly. "C'mon Blaise, tell me where he is."

"He is dead. Pansy. Draco died." Blaise said calmly.

Her hands shook in her lap. She tried to catch Blaise's eyes. She just wanted to see Draco. She had seen him fighting Potter in that raid in Azkaban. She wanted to know where Draco was…and Blaise wasn't helping.

"Blaise," She tried again. "That wasn't funny. That was a very bad joke."

"It's not a joke, Pansy." He said, still avoiding her gaze.

"Look at me, Blaise." Pansy demanded. "Stop avoiding my eyes. Look at me and tell me the truth!"

Blaise's lip stretched into a thin line. His gaze still locked on the sheets of her bed.

"Look at me! _I want to see Draco!"_

Blaise shifted in his seat. As if deciding whether to say something or not. He ran his hand through his black locks and looked around her room.

"Don't lie to me, Blaise." Pansy prompted, her patience wearing thin.

"I haven't. Not once since I met you." He replied.

"I thought we were friends. You know I love Draco. I need to know where he is."

She noticed Blaise flinched. Why?

Heaving a great sigh, Blaise looked at her. He looked right into her eyes. This time she wanted to flinch away, from the immense truth and emotions in them. "He's dead, Pansy. He died."

It was the truth then.

"How do you know? He carried me back here. I remember seeing his face before losing consciousness." She breathed heavily to control herself. She would _not_ lose herself in emotions.

Once again, Blaise's eyes flashed with an emotion she did not comprehend. It was…hurt. But _she_ was the one who was hurting.

"He's not dead." Pansy said determinedly. "I'm going to see him."

Pansy pushed the clammy sheets off her bandaged body. Blaise didn't stop her. He was too surprised by the sudden burst of strength that had been so elusive to her for the last hour. She made her way to the door moving her lead heavy legs. She tried not to sway but the half way to the entrance, her knees gave way. She collapsed. Unable to move anymore. She stared at the door hard. Willing it to open and reveal Draco.

It remained closed.

Like his heart.

Like hers too.

Locked up in distress and fear.

She could see the doors barring in her heart.

She turned to Blaise who was making his way to her. Her eyes were petrified and glassy…but no tears were shed. Pansy Parkinson did not cry. Draco did not cry. So Pansy Parkinson did not cry.

"He isn't dead, is he?" She asked Blaise again with a scratchy, small voice.

"He is." Blaise said mechanically. His facial expression betrayed no emotion. Yet truth and honesty shone in his eyes.

Draco was dead.

He'd died.

He was no longer with her.

He'd stopped on their road…

And she was walking on.

She was walking on without him.

All alone.

Pansy felt Blaise picking her up. Her arms fell to her sides. Like a ragged doll. She felt like a ragged doll. Broken, without a purpose. Dead. She felt Blaise put her onto her bed. Pulling the covers over he battered body. She felt his hand hold hers tightly. His grip providing the only warmth that indicated that she was still alive.

Reminding her that she was alone.

Blaise was with her, but she didn't care.

She just wanted Draco back.

She was deserted.

She was alone.

* * *

A/N: Sad? Heart wrenching? So, what do you think? I'd have to say, I think it's my one of my best chapters...but I do have a level of detachment, so the emotions are not as strong to me as it might/should be to a reader (at least I hope the emotions are strong). REVIEW PLEASE! Once again thanks to those who reviewed last time! I look forward to replying your reviews! 


	20. Aftermath

Disclaimer: I own the plot...that's about it

A/N: -squeak- I can feel the daggers already...I can see the crazed looks...-run and ducks behind chair- I'm so sorry! This chapter is late...and it's probably not that good. But I do have valid reasons for the lateness...I've got revision, the document manager wouldn't show up properly, so I couldn't get the final touches done...and I haven't finish the next chapter (?) -giggles nervously- Please don't hate me...

**Aftermath**

The wand holder had pulsed mutely against her skin. Signaling the end of the mission. Harry had saved them.

The heavy breathing had ceased.

The mask of the Polyjuice had slipped.

Leaving her exposed to her surroundings.

It had been silent. A silence that had resonated from every corner of her being.

She had quickly disabled Lord Voldemort's sight and Draco's voice.

Her wand had then, as if having a mind of its own, trod a familiar road. Her mouth breathed the curse out steadily. Clearly.

The jet of bright green leapt from the tip of her wand and streamed towards Draco, who stood stoic.

And she'd apparated away with Remus's limp body.

Not even bothering to look any further.

What was done should be done.

xxXxx

Ignoring the tearing pain in her arm, she dragged Remus out of the forbidden forest and into the secured premises of Hogwarts. Others appeared gradually out of the forest too, sporting wounds of their own. Moody was colored with blood, dark crimson, his own and others too, and bruises. Tonks had had a badly bandaged arm against her side.

Hagrid had appeared beside her and loaded Remus's weight off her and carried Remus towards the Hospital Wing. She'd thanked him with relief and promised to check on Remus after helping the others. She quickly tended to her own wounds. The deepest injury on her was the severing charm delivered at her in her last duel. The cut sliced from the middle of her bicep to the juncture of her shoulder; although it was not as attention demanding as the wounds of others.

A matted blond head caught her attention. Lavender Brown. She was limping and in her arms, she carried another body- Padma Patil.

Hermione approached both women.

Lavender's head snapped up at hearing her footsteps. Fear was evident in her eyes. She shook uncontrollably. Her clothes were torn and bloodied.

"Hermione…" Lavender said in a small voice, as if surprised and relieved to find her there. "Help her…please, help her."

Hermione look upon the battered face of Padma. Her body bled profusely. Her limbs on the right were crushed.

"Mobilicorpus." Hermione lifted the weight off her old classmate. "We'll have to go to St. Mungo."

xxXxx

Hermione and Lavender watched as two healers fretted over their wounds while another attended to their fallen comrade. They watched, mutely, with a horrifying fascination, as different healing spells were cast and the healers darted around like arrows.

They didn't know how long it was when the healer walked to them, expression grim, and depressing. Both of them held their breath.

"I'm sorry." The healer said quietly. "All we can do is to ease her passing. I could only douse her with pain killing charms."

Hermione bit her lower lip as she stood next to Lavender, who let out a gasp and broke into tears. She watched as the medi-witch said the incantations then walked away with bright eyes, leading her colleagues to tend to the others wounded.

"What am I supposed to do?" Lavender sobbed, burying her face into her bandaged hands. "I promised Parvati. I promised Parvati that I would look out for Padma. I swore that I'd protect her when she died."

Hermione put her arm around the woman's shoulder and tried to find the words to comfort her. There was little comfort that she could give. This was war. And casualties were daily occurrences.

"She fought for what she believed in." She said, blinking back the moisture that was gathering in her eyes. She would not cry. She had to be strong. For Lavender. For everyone.

"I know." Lavender whispered hoarsely. "But that doesn't change the fact that I've failed both of them."

Hermione didn't say anything, knowing that by trying to comfort her, it would only increase the other's guilt.

"I should be happy, shouldn't I?" Lavender heaved. "She'll be seeing Pavarti soon. They're twins…They must miss each other…but, but…I've lost Pavarti already…I-I-"

Hermione tried to maneuver her friend out of the Hospital Wing. Lavender didn't need to see the end of her best friend's life. It would be too much. She didn't think she could see Harry or Ron dying on a bed.

But Lavender shook her head and looked at Padma's crumbled form on the bed.

"I need to be here." She said bravely while allowing Hermione to help her sit down. "I...I need to prove that she existed as a person…to remember that she wasn't just another casualty of this damn war, left to die on a bed."

Hermione nodded, understanding Lavender's meaning. They'd all fought for a cause- to give the future a better world. They deserved to be remembered in their last moments and afterwards, too, for the life they'd given up. She walked quietly away. She'd remember and grieve for Padma later. This moment belonged to Lavender and Padma alone. The two women who'd been sisters and had supported each other because no men had been brave enough to take care of them.

Her remembrance could wait.

She went to the apparition point just outside St. Mungo and went back into the forbidden forest.

xxXxx

When she arrived at the Hospital Wing, Harry and the Weasleys were present. Molly was tending to the minor injuries on Bill, Charlie and Ron. Arthur was with Fred, who sat by George's bed. Harry was holding onto Ginny's hand by hers. The others must have decided to give them some alone time. The Weasley greeted her in silence, with a wave of the hand or a nod. Molly walked up to her and gave her a once over, making sure she was fine, before giving her a huge hug.

Ron's arm wrapped around her once Molly had let go.

"Are you okay? I heard you'd got captured for a bit." Hermione's voice muffled in his chest.

"Yes. Just a lil' bump on the head. Where were you?" Ron asked, once he'd released her from his embrace

"St. Mungo. Padma's dying." She said, tears that she had refused to cry in front of Lavender dropping.

Ron stiffened at the news. Another fallen.

"Oh. Lavender must be taking it really hard." Ron, eyes bright with the familiar sheen of tears, drew Hermione into his arms again.

"She is." She tried to control her tears. "But she's strong."

Although strained, Ron smiled fondly at her. "Always finding the best in people. That's what I love about you."

Ron kissed her temple and then before he could say another sentence, his mother came and dragged him off, saying that he needed to rest.

Harry noticing Hermione's arrival, waved her over.

Hermione summoned a chair and sat down beside him.

"How's Ginny?" she asked, inhaling deeply to calm herself and observing the paler woman lying on the white sheets.

"She'll be fine."

Hermione nodded, not pressing any further. She had an idea what Voldemort had done to Ginny.

"They tortured her. But you were right, she held out." Harry said with a proud and loving light in his eyes.

"I told you so." She grinned. She, too, was proud of her friend. The sister she'd never had. "She'll be walking in no time."

Harry nodded.

Then it was silence. Both absorbed in their own thoughts. Harry was probably thinking about Ginny. She wondered how Remus was doing. Madame Promfry was still with him. She was about to open her mouth to ask, when:

"I saw you." Harry said suddenly.

"Of course you saw me." She said looking at him funnily.

"No." Harry said, focusing his eyes on her. "I saw what you did. I saw you acting as me."

Hermione met his eyes steadily. "I did what I had to do." She said simply. Her thoughts flying back to that scene again. In her mind, she saw herself raising her wand again. She saw the jet of neon green speeding away...

"I know." He said quietly, looking back at Ginny's pale face again.

"Then why did you question?"

"Because you risked your life for me. For us."

"Harry," Hermione said softly, drawing his attention to her again; with complete sincerity, she said, "I would risk my life for you, for any of you, on any day."

She watched Harry's eyes shine with emotion. He drew in a breath and said roughly, "Thank you."

"No, Harry." Hermione smiled with that freedom that he'd seen when he woke up in his room in Grimmauld Place. "Thank _you_. For risking your life. For giving me hope and a chance to move on."

She'd done what she had to.

What had to be done should be done.

She'd kept her promise.

With that, she stood up, making her way to the bed close by and fell asleep almost immediately; leaving a puzzled but equally grateful Harry gazing after her.

* * *

A/N: Sorry! I know this chapter...it doesn't have much...but, I'm unfortunately experience mild case of W/B (this does not mean white/black...but the nightmare of writers), so tell me what you think? Did you like the Lavender and Padma bit? My friends and I feel really strongly about it. 


	21. Turns

Disclaimer: Same old!

A/N: As you may have noticed...my updates have been...irregular/late. For this, I apologize. But things are really tight with me for some times and I just couldn't find time to update, so please continue to be patient with me. I love you all...and so you know, I didn't make update slow just to torture you! Thank you to people who reviewed in the last chapters! You're the best!

**Turns**

She opened her eyes to the sun. Its brightness foretold a prosperous and happy year, but the rays that bathed her only left her cold and heavy.

A new year had begun.

Another year of battles and war.

Another year of losing the scarce things she'd held precious through the years.

The Hospital Wing was dead. No movement and hardly any sound indicated a resemblance of the lively hall that she had inhibited not so long ago. Harry was sound asleep next to Ginny's bed. Ron and George, the two Weasleys that had been allowed to stay behind, snored softly and provided the only sounds in the room. The other Weasleys had probably made their way back to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Remus, who she hadn't seen last night, was wrapped in bandages and was lying, still, on the hospital bed, pale under the January sun.

She saw a note by her bed. It was scribbled in shaky handwriting and adorned with dots of tear-smeared ink. She picked the note up with stiff fingers. She had her ideas of who the writer was and what she'd find in the message. Hermione gripped the paper tightly as it confirmed to her suspicions. Lavender had written it. Padma had departed.

Another gone.

It was a lovely start.

She tried to let out her remorse but soon found herself too weak and tired to cry. She would have to make a visit to Lavender soon. Mourning was better with company…sometimes.

Hermione picked up the pile of clothing she had found at the end of her bed. Molly must have left it there the night before, before she'd retired. She entered the bathroom in Hospital Wing and barred the doors behind her. She prepared a bath. Turning on the shower to let the water heat up, she slowly removed her grubby clothes. She reeked of sweat and dirt and the coppery odor of blood.

Gingerly, she stepped into the cascade of water and yelped as the water hit cuts –shallow and deep– on her body. Although most of the cuts had been healed at St. Mungo's the last night, she'd insisted to have the minor cuts to heal on their own to decrease the healers' workload. She scrubbed herself mechanically and vigorously to rid herself of the remnants of New Year's Eve.

When she finally deemed herself cleansed, she stepped out and into the bath that she'd prepared. Sinking into the light foam, it's smell refreshing and comforting. In the warm envelope of water and fragrance, her thoughts swam of its own accord.

In this sanctuary, she could lock the world out, barring all the material troubles that clung to her with the thick door, and deal with the troubles of her scarred heart.

Just for this moment.

A long, weary sigh escaped her.

Tears dripped onto the bubbles.

What was she to do?

Draco.

Her darkest secret.

Never exposed, yet already condemned.

_She_ had condemned him. Destroyed him.

And at that moment with Remus tight in her arms, she had done it with little regret.

Had love been so brittle between them?

"I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so sorry." She whispered softly, her voice echoing in the empty bathroom.

Would he ever forgive her?

xxXxx

Hermione exited the bathroom and was ushered towards the Great Hall for breakfast or, she glanced at the clock, brunch. It was a quiet affair. No one was in the Great Hall. The students were enjoying a leisure-filled day, with snow and all those wonderful things one would find in the school. Things that the world beyond these walls, had lost. A sense of detachment, naivety and innocence.

The teachers were scattered around the school. Professor Dumbledore would probably be in his spacious study. Professor McGonagall would probably be chatting with her colleagues in the Teacher's lounge, while Severus would continue brewing in his lab. And Remus, the DADA teacher for the last couple of years who had cleared the supposed jinx on that position, was in the Hospital Wing, still recovering.

She ate what she could. It wasn't much though. After the events last night, she didn't have, _couldn't have_ much of an appetite. Not with friends in critical condition and at least one comrade, she knew for sure, dead. Hermione played around with the food for a bit before finally deciding that she could not swallow another bite.

She left the Great Hall and made her way back to the Hospital Wing. She had promised to visit Remus first. Harry had left Ginny's bedside after many threats from Madame Pomfrey, to feed his famished body. George and Ron had returned to the Grimmauld Place.

In the still quiet Hospital Wing, Hermione sat in front of his bed.

Eyes tightly shut. Hair wild, and unkempt on the pillow.

He looked pale…and peaceful. Dreadfully peaceful.

Breathing was the only motion that indicated he was still alive.

Hermione softly brushed the tawny hair from his closed eyes. Madame Pomfrey had assured her that he was okay and he would recover. In time. In a long, long time.

The man was no longer young. The werewolf had kept him alive in this escapade but over the years, it had shortened his life and stamina. Remus's recovery would be a toiling task. Even an amateur could see that. And there was a chance that he wouldn't be as strong as he was after it. An expert would've known.

"What will happen to you, Remus?" Hermione asked. She didn't expect an answer. And she received none. "What will we do?"

She sat there in the stillness of the afternoon. Her thoughts walking an undetermined route. Just taking a deserved rest next to her friend.

"Ah, Miss Granger, just the woman I was looking for." The calm, mellow voice interrupted her wandering mind.

"Professor!" Hermione turned in her seat and attempted to stand.

The elderly man waved his hand for Hermione to sit down while summoning a chair next to her. He sat himself down. His eyes trailed over the lying man. As if examining his injuries.

"It will be a long recovery." He commented softly, almost as if it were a thought that he had not realized he had spoken out loud.

"Yes, Professor. It will be a long one." Hermione said respectfully, looking at the wizard whom she had admired since her induction to the wizarding world.

"But he will recover." Dumbledore said decisively, turning his attention to Hermione.

Hermione inclined her head in agreement.

"Professor, how many this time?" she voiced the question that had been in her mind since Dumbledore had entered.

"Fifteen. One of them being Professor Sprout." Dumbledore said factually as he turned away, eyes suddenly glassy.

It had been painful to announce the death of another colleague –yet another one. But the elderly man still managed with a leveled detachment. A piece of evidence…a scar of War.

"But," the Professor turned back, a soft light glowing in his eyes. "Death is only the flight of stairs before the stages of rebirth."

Hermione nodded again and waited for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to begin the subject with which he wished to discuss with her. She shifted under the penetrating gaze of the man she had always imagined to be bigger than life. There was a long silence, but she remained patient.

"Hermione, I was wondering whether you'd be willing to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class." Professor Dumbledore said finally.

"Professor, but that is Remus's job!" Hermione said, astonished. She had not been expecting this! What of Harry…and Ron? She would be put behind the lines if she were to teach in Hogwarts. She would be leaving them in the dark of danger, standing alone, without her. She wasn't even fit for teaching. She lacked many of the qualities needed, compassion being one of them. She had killed without thinking. How could Dumbledore expose the students to such a person?

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said, "Unfortunately, as you can see, Remus will be bedridden for a long period of time. And we cannot slow our progress in the students' training. Not at this crucial moment."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "Why not Harry though? You'll be able to keep an eye on him…"

"Miss Granger, I will not put my students in danger!" Professor Dumbledore interrupted.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but Harry would be able to teach them more about the Dark Arts than any other person I know," Hermione reasoned.

"Hogwarts may be secured, but I will _not_ put it under the limelight." Professor Dumbledore said firmly. Though he appeared to be calm, Hermione could see the determination and a fierce gleam in his eyes. The Headmaster of Hogwarts must, and _would_ stand before his charges and protect them. Not even the Order would move him.

"I understand, Professor. I accept." An understanding had been established, though doubt still circled her brain.

"Hermione, I've no doubt in your capabilities and you shouldn't either. I have seen your courage and loyalty. They have never failed to amaze those around you. Many, even in death, admire you for the things you've done."

A flash of blond appeared in her mind but she pushed the image firmly away. She was tempted to ask _'Really?'_ but the word stayed, caught, in her throat. Instead, she smiled and almost as if on an automatic tape recorder, other words came out. "Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded and stood up.

"I'll send you your schedule as soon as possible," he said and headed out of the Wing, returning Hermione to her solitude.

Unconsciously, a face in a lost year appeared. A smiling face. A golden halo. A soul, still pure, caught in the clutches of despair and darkness. The face changed. It became slightly older. Golden halo darker and eyes a little wider. She could almost see the green, apocalyptic light in his orbs.

'_Did you admire me then, Draco?'_

* * *

A/N: So what do you think? I would say this is the end to the first half of the story. Since Professor Sprout is dead...anyone willing to make a guess to who will replace her? Again, I will have to apologize for the next late update... 


	22. Mourning

A/N: Hey people! I'm back! I hope you'd still be reading this fic…even after the long hiatus! Well, this is the next chapter…however, I've made some changes to the original version which I've sent you in the official notice (if you don't know what I'm talking about, it's okay, just read)! So, to get things started, let's have Pansy!

**Mourning**

"_Sometimes, teas are a sign of strength. Sometimes, tears ease your pain."_

Someone, she did not remember who, said once.

But Pansy never cried. Because tears had never helped. And they wouldn't help her now.

So she sat. Motionless. Anticipating. Waiting for what could not be. The sun rose. The sun set. People came; and people left. Time passed so easily. Life was moving on. Into a new year without Draco.

She'd rarely left the security of her room, only attending the Dark Lord's meetings where her bleeding heart was shredded once again with the announcement of Draco's death. She'd barely remembered what'd passed in there –only catching broken sentences of Blaise's 'new position' and the Dark Lord's new regime to 'strengthen them'. Her eyes had shifted back to the empty place beside the Dark Lord time after time again. Until it wasn't empty anymore. Until she could not tell herself that Draco was only on a long errand for the Dark Lord– because Blaise stood there now.

Other than the meetings, she retreated into her room, where she could not be hurt anymore.

Blaise had sat there by her. Watching her mourn. Lament. Hide from life.

They didn't converse. Barely any words had been exchanged since that morning. They stood on a delicate sheet of glass. Another step in the wrong direction, and the glass would break…

xxXxx

She was once again staring out of the window. What she was looking for, she did not know. But she sat stoically on the adjoining balcony. Sometimes, she could not believe that she was wasting away like this. A certain part of her yelled for her to go on. Yet she could not bring herself to any action at all.

She couldn't bring herself to face reality. She couldn't bring herself to react or to show emotions.

Emotions were a weakness.

"_But so is the lack thereof." _Blaise's voice said.

She turned around. But the seat that he had occupied for the last week remained empty. She must be losing her mind. To be hearing his voice at the oddest moments.

Blaise was not in the room. He'd left last night when his mark burned. He had inhaled sharply, which had attracted her attention in their solitude. Feeling her gaze, he had smiled and without another word, and just holding the part where she knew the dark mark lay pulsing, he'd left her room.

Slightly earlier than he would have when he was…Blaise. Just Blaise. It was that moment, when a part of the truth that she had been trying to deny, seeped in. The truth was like a fine hairline in their glass. So thin and small…but so deadly.

_Click._

The sun was setting now. Disappearing into the horizon, bringing the physical darkness into her room. It was then, Blaise entered again with heavy footsteps.

"You're late." She commented.

"I was delayed." He replied in a raspy voice.

"Something happened?" she asked with mild interest as she looked away from the red sky.

"My family died." Blaise said with tormented eyes, unshed tears lurking dangerously.

She looked at the man before her and analyzed. His dark hair was unkempt. His eyes were red from crying. His normally tanned skin seemed grey under the fading light. He was a mess. But who was she to judge?

She was a mess too.

"I see."

"My Lord killed yours too."

"So?"

"Don't you care?" his voice was more constricted than she had ever heard.

She shook her head.

Then again, an uncomfortable silence dwelled in the room.

"When did you become so uncaring?"

"Do you want me to be weak?" Pansy asked monotonously, ignoring his question. "Do you want me to cry? Expect me to cry? Like you?"

She looked away from the window and glared at him.

_Click._

"Pansy," Blaise said, his eyes continued to shine. "Sometimes, it is not a weakness like you think it is."

"To me, it is." She retorted, gaining a wisp of her former vigor. But it was lost before long. "You wouldn't understand. Draco wouldn't have wanted me to be weak. Draco would have-"

Suddenly, it was as if some restrain in Blaise broke. A fury she had yet to encounter was born in her presence.

"WAKE UP, PANSY!" he shouted, frustration and possibly anger evident in his voice. "You can't go on like this. He's dead, so what? You've still got me!"

She snapped suddenly. The horrid truth was once again slapped heavily into her face.

_Click._

"I KNOW HE'S DEAD! I KNOW IT TOO WELL! AND WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN HELP ME?"

She heaved after her shouting. It was as if a load was lifted from her heart. She wanted to thank Blaise for letting her shout and putting up with her…but when she heard what he said next, she wished she hadn't had her outburst.

"Because I love you, Pansy." He whispered.

"Don't joke, Blaise." She said hoarsely.

"I'm not. I do love you, Pans." He said with all seriousness. His eyes never wavered once as he made his declaration.

She turned away abruptly, unable to face the man in her room. Her heart belonged to Draco. Only Draco. It didn't have a place for anyone else. Not in the past. Not now. Not ever.

"Please go, Blaise." She whispered in the now quiet room. "Please. My heart belongs to Draco."

"Won't you give me a chance?" he choked out.

"It's just a passing phase." She dismissed, quietly. "Just a passing phase"

"Is it?"

She nodded.

"I don't think so." His voice had changed as he said that. The pained tone suddenly became strangely determined. As if he was certain that he could change her mind.

"I won't change my mind." Pansy told him, and telling herself that too.

She heard him turn. There was a clear '_Click._' in the back of her mind. She didn't know what it was, but for an unknown reason, her eyes blurred. Wetness trailed down her cheeks. She swiped at her eyes hesitantly.

_Click._

"Will you ever let your heart heal?" Blaise asked.

"Maybe." She answered as the footsteps echoed and the door opened. "Maybe after I've avenged Draco. Maybe after I've killed Potter."

"…Potter didn't kill Draco." He paused at the door and said. "He came upon another fate. One worse than the Killing Curse."

With that, he left.

The door closed softly but surely.

_Click._

She could hear the glass shattering.

* * *

A/N: YES! I've updated! Please don't let me lose any reviews or readers! So please review! I'll be updating constantly from now on since my exams are over! Do look forward to the next chapter! As a certain someone would come! (evil smiles)! So REVIEW! (Only Secret is currently under the post-exam hyperness!) REVIEW! I love all of you who read my fic! 


	23. Faces

Disclaimer: -sigh- wish I owned everything

A/N: Well, I'm back again. About one week since my last entry! That's pretty good for me! I'm slightly disheartened that I've lost some readers but I still got some new ones! Just a question...does any of you read the 'reviews' first before you read the story? I've got my first flame for chapter 21! It's a bit confusing...but well, can't really do anything to improve my story if the flamer isn't specific. Okies, I'll stop babbling. Next chapter- right back with Hermione.

**Face**

Two days after she accepted the job as the new Defense Against Dark Arts professor, she received a fire call to collect her schedule and to tell her that there would be a meeting in the teachers' lounge. She left her recently prepared room and walked leisurely down the still empty halls. She meandered through the stairs and found herself in front of the chandelier which led to the teachers' meeting area. She could've used her floo system in Hogwarts to get there from her room. But she had always adored walking through the Hogwarts' hallways. Every time was a different experience. She'd learnt that in her first year in Hogwarts. Sometimes, it was peaceful; sometimes, it was busy even though the hall was bare and empty.

She whispered the password to the chandelier that hung delicately on the old wall and waited for the doorway to open and admit her in. When she entered, she nodded sheepishly in greeting to the already present figures there, as she was the last one to arrive. She moved further into the room as the sliding door closed. She went into the sitting area, where she found herself looking at a vaguely familiar back. Was this the new Herbology Teacher? Her mouth opened to greet the man before her when said man, as if sensing her intrigued glance, turned around.

She gasped slightly as familiar eyes bored into hers. She remembered them.

They had been on a face she knew.

A face of an old friend.

A face that had been on neither side of the war.

A boy who shied away from this mess. Shoulders slumped. Face wet. Scared.

A man stood in his place now. A confident and self-assured man. Not fearless but courageous.

"Neville!" she cried out in surprise and joy. "It's been ages!"

And it was true. The boy who left Hogwarts and the man stood before her was so different. He had been so lost and ashamed.

A huge grin spread across his face. "Hi, Hermione. I've decided to teach here."

Those words had so much implication. Neville Longbottom had joined the war and was fighting for the Order. Another fighter on the thinning front. Another possible life lost. She didn't know whether she should be ecstatic or sad.

Brushing her thoughts aside, Hermione walked briskly to him and enveloped him into a fierce hug and told him how great it was to see him. They found themselves sitting together on a sofa when Professor Dumbledore came.

There was a brief introduction as the two new professors reacquainted themselves with the rest of the faculty. Then the details of the next term which begun the day after. Hermione listened attentively and after the meeting adjourned, she stopped Neville for a long chat in the lounge.

It had been a long time, and nothing was better than to start the year with a re-acquaintance of an old friend.

xxXxx

It had been a week since the raid could she approach Severus. She was sure that he knew already, seeing that in the Order's meeting he'd mentioned Blaise Zabini's sudden ascend into the Dark Lord's right hand position. They had discussed the implication of this relatively unknown Death Eater in the Lord Voldemort's ring of Power. They'd known that Zabini was a part of the elites, but his activities, aside from the usual participation in the Revel, had remained a mystery.

Hermione knocked on the Potion door and waited for the admittance. She didn't need t wait long as he had obviously expected her. Severus had known that she'd approach him soon. He knew from the downcast eyes and slight shifting during the meeting.

"Come in." Severus invited her in and sat her down in front of his desk. Then he disappeared into his private office to bring forth two glasses and a bottle of liquor. She smiled gratefully and accepted the offered drink.

Severus sat down sipped his drink, allowing a moment of silence, before he opened his mouth again. "So how is teaching?"

She sighed softly, once again grateful that Severus started the conversation.

"It's fine." She said, and then with a soft grin, she continued. "I'm beginning to understand why you were so grumpy. Gryffindors and their silly pranks and loudness. Hufflepuffs are so gullible and stubborn. Ravenclaws are the better bunch to teach. But sometimes, they look at the questions or situation too theoretically!"

Severus nodded in amusement, a thin lipped smirk appeared. "And the Slytherin?"

Hermione froze. She thought carefully before answering. "Well…the Slytherins are…Slytherins…Some are very good students, in the academic sense. But some are so prejudice and rude. They think I don't know it, but they make faces and comments when my back is turned."

"I see." Severus nodded. "You should've gave them detentions. That's what they're for."

They shard a short laugh, before falling into silence again. There was something that they needed to talk about. Both of them knew it. But neither knew how to start.

"I…" Hermione started hesitantly, she wasn't sure how she could do this. "I came to talk about Draco Malfoy."

Severus looked at her solemnly and said, "I know."

"He's dead, isn't he?" she asked, "…that's why Zabini got his spot."

"Yes." He answered; his black eyes still stared intently at her.

She nodded slowly. Looking into her glass of drink. Admiring the way the liquid swirled in her slightly trembling hand. "I sent the killing curse at him." She blurted out, then she looked up from her glass.

Severus's face remained impassive. As was expected of a dedicated spy. He stared at her, as if searching for something. Some sort of reaction.

"As I've been told in the Dark Revel." He said, still staring at her.

"I ended it. Just like I promised." She said. A cynical smile appeared on her face.

Severus continued to observe the warrior before him. It wasn't the fighter in her that he was concerned with. It hadn't been the woman he was looking for. It was the girl. He had been trying to see how the girl reacted to this. The girl who still lived before the day of the graduation.

"I took the Polyjuice. Malfoy thought I was Harry." Hermione said in a matter of fact way. Betraying no emotions, because emotions were not needed. "We dual, and I cast the spell while apparating away with Remus."

"Are you…" Severus hesitated before continuing. "Will you be okay?"

"I am fine." She said firmly, placing the glass of finished liquor on the desk. "…Thank you for listening."

With that, she left the classroom and returned to her quarters. A smile was on her face. Because she remembered Draco. Not Malfoy.

She remembered only Draco now. The Draco in his last year of Hogwarts. The one who died first. He had been an eagle free to fly. He had a sad soft smile. He had unblemished skin. He had no gaudy scars or mark. He had been a wonderful promise.

She had mourned. And it was over.

xxXxx

The January sun shone on the pristine sheet of snow and into a room at Hogwarts in the early morning.

She stood before her mirror and tied her hair up. Being satisfied by her reflection, as she presented an image of respectable Professor, she turned around and left the spacious room that was hers.

It was another day at Hogwarts for her. She'd felt oddly excluded in her first day of teaching. It had been as if she was no longer a part of the war because she was around smiling faces and innocent students that had yet to be touched, at least not fully, by the treachery that lies outside. But then, she saw the students' faces transformed within the classroom. A seriousness that had been lacking in her school years was found in her students. It was then she realized her importance in Hogwarts. She was their best chance of survival.

And she'd be damned if she didn't do her best because she was too preoccupied by the war and Harry as well as Ron's safety.

She entered the scarcely occupied Great Hall. It was still early in the morning, only the teachers and a handful of students. She nodded with a smile of her face as the students greeted her. Some of them knew her in her school years and they were more than pleased to see her back. Hermione proceeded effortlessly towards the table where the other professors sat.

She plopped herself down next to Neville who gave her a smile. She returned one gladly and began to fill her plate with food. They shared light-hearted talk and watched students slowly emerging into the hall.

The students yawned and stretched and bickered. Very much like them just a few years ago. It was moments like these that the war seemed non-existent.

Upon the arrival of the fluttering mails, a very plain and ordinary owl flew away from the flock. Unbeknown by most of the students as they were too immersed in their own letters. However, the teaching faculty all shifted warily as the owl neared them.

Hermione regarded the bird that approached the faculty table carefully. It had landed almost silently in front of Professor Dumbledore. She watched the bird staring at the Headmaster until it was sure that he took the parchment tied to its leg and opened the message. She watched carefully as the owl departed with barely a flutter and no hoot at all.

An owl trained to be discreet. Most definitely news concerning the war, she decided.

She returned her attention to the elderly Professor whose mouth was drawn to an uncharacteristic thin line. All of them waited. With an agonizing casualness, Professor looked along the head table.

"It would seem," he said lightly, not betraying any sort of distress, "that first lessons today must be canceled as we have a meeting to go through."

* * *

A/N: Would you call that a cliffy? So how did you like it? If you're gonna ask me what's in that letter...I can't really tell you because it'd spoil the next chapter. There's only one girl out there who knows it because she's somehow successfully 'bullied' it out of me. She's somewhere in Canada enjoying her holiday now. About next week's update, it might be a bit late as I'll be out of town for a couple of days. So I'll be without my computer...and you all know how writing is without the computer.

Please, please, please review! And please, please, please read **To My Son**. That's the side story to this chapter. It shows how Neville changed his mind and joined...please with chocolate fudge and coco pops on top of cookie n' cream ice cream?


	24. Pivot

Disclaimer: Don't own anything...All belongs to the wonderful yet evil JK Rowling.

A/N: Who feels like killing me?...Everyone?...I thought so! Sorry for the huge delay...My beta...has encountered some problems so...well, this version is not beta-ed yet...for the possible mistakes, I apologize first. Then...of course...there's another issue at hand...the release of the Half-Blood Prince...for those who'd read it already, I'm sure you know what this make my story. For those who hasn't read it...this fic is only up-to-date with OotP...so it's rather AU now.

**Pivot**

She hastily scribbled down on the board what she wanted her first class, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff second years, to complete. The piercing screech of the chalk scratching across the board echoed in the still empty classroom. She ignored it. Maybe because she had grown use to it…or she was too distracted by the owl which had arrived less than thirty minutes ago.

When she was positive that her message was legible, she raced into her office with as much dignity as she could manage. Hermione threw a pinch of floo powder, specially made for Hogwarts, into the hearth in her office and whispered the name of the Teacher's lounge- Hogwarts' Bed.

She'd been thoroughly amused by the name when she'd first learnt it. It was purely ingenious. She didn't think either of the twins would've guessed it, had it not been the Marauder's Map.

She arrived with a puff of smoke and quickly stepped out because quickly following her arrival, Professor McGonagall arrived. They nodded in greeting and took their seat in the rearranged room. Within moments, the professors of Hogwarts waited for Professor Dumbledore to start the meeting.

"We've got a letter from Blaise Zabini." The headmaster stated as he passed the letter which arrive in the morning to Professor McGonagall who was beside him. "It would seem that he wants…a change."

Hermione took the letter which was handed to her and read the content with rising suspicions.

'_Professor Dumbledore,_

_Due to recent changes in circumstances, I have no reasons to work for the Dark Lord any longer. Therefore I've a proposal; with my new position, I am willing to trade information and fight for your organization at the price of two pardons for Pansy Parkinson and myself at the end of the war. We can arrange a meeting at your designated place to prove my sincerity and loyalty to your organization._

_Blaise Zabini'_

She passed the letter on to Neville who sat next to her and waited patiently for the rest of the faculty to read the parchment. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to recall what she remembered about this man who claimed to have change sides.

Hermione remembered that they were in the same year and partaken in the same Charms class. She remembered a dark haired male who had spoken little but managed to get correct answers when asked upon. He hadn't been attention drawing…but he had been always found in Malfoy's group. With Malfoy and those who became the most dangerous Death Eaters.

"I don't know much about him." she voiced her opinion out as the letter was handed back to Dumbledore.

"Zabini is another old pureblood family." Dumbledore explained. "They're a very successful family. Both in business and relationship."

Hermione raised her eyebrow quizzically, not really getting the evasive Headmaster's meaning.

"Their family is built on love. Unlike most pureblood marriages back then, the Zabinis were a love match. They were a family built on love." Severus elaborated.

"Were?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"They're dead now." Severus said casually. "This is a topic I was planning to bring up in the meeting this afternoon. It is said that the Dark Lord killed the immediate families of his circle. His attempt to strengthen them."

"So," Professor Flitwick said thoughtfully, "The recent change in circumstances would be talking about his parents' death."

"I do believe so." Severus said.

"Then, it is decided that the letter is genuine?" Neville asked.

"It can be a very timely ploy." Hermione commented.

"Yes, it can." Dumbledore said, "However, we must balance out the odds of the situation. Mr. Zabini is willing to meet us at our named place. This takes quite a lot of courage. This can also however be Voldemort's plan to find out about our base."

"If he is sincere about his claim, we will have an informant from the heart of the enemy territory." Hermione said, continuing to analyze the situation.

"But it can also immediately endanger the one-" Professor McGonagall protested.

"I think everyone in the Order is very capable at defending themselves." The Headmaster assured his deputy.

"But who will go? It's a possible suicide mission." Professor McGonagall asked.

"I will-" Hermione began, feeling more involved in the war than she had in weeks.

Anyway to win this war, she would take.

"I will go." Neville's voice quickly overridden hers. "I won't draw attention to myself. Voldemort and his minions don't know I'm involved yet. We've been in the same Herbology class too. It'd be less suspicious if I approach him."

"But if it turns out to be a ploy to eliminate more members of the Order…" Professor Vector voiced the worry of the group at the prospect of sending a member to meet a Death Eater.

"I'm capable of defending myself." Neville said calmly.

"I will go too." Hermione said.

"But-" The attention of the professor drawn to her sharply.

"I will be under disguise so it will be fine." Hermione said, decidedly. "I can also add some truth serum into the drinks without drawing attention."

"Then it is decided." Professor Dumbledore summed up the meeting. "Neville and Hermione would meet Mr. Zabini. We must conclude this meeting until this evening before we draw more attention and panic."

With that the meeting dispersed. All teachers lost in their own thoughts about the sudden conversion of a Death Eater.

xxXxx

Hermione sat in her chair before her desk and watched the Fourth years arranged themselves into pairs. Her lesson plan for today was to introduce them to the Protection charm. The bodies of yellow and blue ties mingled noisily but quickly and within moments, all were set.

Then she stood up. She whipped out her wand and performed the spell, a spell that she could perform even in her sleep now. She made a quick summery of the spell and stressed the importance of the charm. She set the Fourth year students off with a spar using only the Protection charm and the Tickling spell.

When the students were underway in the exercise, Hermione found herself back in her seat and already formulating a plan for the up-coming meeting while keeping a close eye on the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws progressed. Satisfied by their on-going spars, she took a peek at the white world outside the window and wondered when Harry and Ron would arrive for the meeting this evening…

A pang in her heart.

A flash of tawny yellow.

Umber stains on the pristine snow.

Labored legs dragged a darkly clothed body.

Step by step, leaving a trail behind.

She turned to her class whose attention was undivided by the dueling task she set them.

"Stop!" She ordered loudly, nearly shouting. She knew she had startled her students and they were probably wondering what they've done wrong. She should explain to them that they've done nothing wrong…but she couldn't. An emotion, one that she hadn't experience in a long time, swelled inside her.

"Professor Granger?" a braver Ravenclaw spoke to her meekly.

"I want you to sit down. And DO NOT, under any circumstances, leave this room without any permission!" She barked out the order and she turned to the girl who'd spoken. "Go to the Headmaster and tell him that we have a visitor! The password is 'lemon drops'."

With that, she ran.

* * *

A/N: I'm starting to love Cliffy! I know it'd be less affective if I say 'if you review, I'd update faster'...but to show you my progress and get you to review...I'll show you an extract of the next chapter...(note: this is the very first version...so it may be slightly different.)

"Tears blurred her vision slowly and she felt their path down her reddened cheek. The girl in her was crying. It felt like that day again. Wind blew and trees fluttered in it. A numbing cold penetrated her thin layer of clothes. Her surrounding was quiet. Her surrounding was still. Just like that day.

They waited for someone to break this silence.

Someone who never came that day."

Voila! Review! Review! Review!


	25. Emotions

Disclaimer: Nope, they're only mine in a world called 'Only Secret's reality'

A/N: Well, the updates are slower than it was before, really sorry for that. I'm hoping for at least two more updates before the end of the summer holidays. So wish me luck...I've got the general idea of what the next two chapters are going to be about...and I'm sure reviews will speed up the process. I love you all for sticking with me.

**Emotions**

Her legs carried her swiftly.

Her speed fueled by her anxiety…or maybe, anger.

Anger for the pain she could not halt. Anger for the persistent haunting. Anger for the small pricking in her heart.

She shouldn't be feeling this.

She hated the girl sometimes.

As if flames were upon her heels, she ran towards the snowy outdoors. She fumed as she went, feeding more speed to her legs.

Left turn.

Down the stairs.

Through the secret corridor behind the tapestry.

More stairs.

She saw the door.

The blasted door that seemed so near, yet so far away.

Hermione dug quickly into her sleeve for her wand. And with a quick flick of her wrist, she unbolted the door just as she was about to crash into it.

A pristine white surrounded her and gusts of wintry wind rushed at her. She panted, each breath forming a haze that seemed to blend in perfectly with Hogwarts' ground. She looked around wildly as if trying to determine where he was. Her hair disarrayed, tendrils flying in all directions.

She sped away from Hagrid's cottage.

She ignored the chill that blew into her face.

Her mind focused on one thing only.

She needed to get there!

Then she saw him.

Found him staining the snow in Hogwarts.

Robes askew and torn.

Dry umber patches tainting his hair.

His face grave and eyes hazy.

The mutilated Dark Mark protruding on his pale and grey skin.

He turned his head, as if sensing her presence, and saw her.

But too late.

"Expelliarmus!" She said and shot him into a tree on the edge of the forbidden forest before skidding to a stop. She noted that he didn't have his wand and was wounded more seriously than she thought he was when she saw him.

He slowly pushed himself up against the tree she blasted him into. His expression pained and reminiscing. That faraway way look upon his face when she first saw him was gone. He looked at her, with an emotion she couldn't really identify…at least not on him.

Was it…regret?

"You looked like that," He said with a sad half-smile; that awful yet lovely smile that belonged to the past, "when we first kissed."

She stiffened. But then a cynical smile appeared; her eyes hard.

"I didn't know you'd remembered." Hermione said coldly.

"I do." His voice tired but still clear. "I remember just as much as you do."

It sounded so much like how he would've said it all those years ago. Sad and honest. And the girl would've been rooted to her spot all those years ago. But the girl was no longer in control anymore...she didn't think.

Hermione snorted humorlessly, hoping to cover up for the second of uncertainty.

"I would hope so." she said. With a coldness that brewed underneath her casual tone, she continued, "You wouldn't mind me asking what's a Death Eater lurking on enemy's territory, would you?"

He didn't answer for a moment as if he was contemplating her words carefully. Like he didn't really know his answer.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Her grip tightened around her wand.

"Nothing." He answered in the way he would've when they'd been seventeen again and she was prying too much.

"I would think that a Death Eater could lie better than that." She glared at him. "I could kill you now."

She pointed at him. Her arm never wavered. But she felt and she knew…something was breaking. Something that belonged to the girl.

"Go ahead." He said, the smile still on his face. He, still leaning against the tree, looked at her steadily. Not defying his fate. Not mocking her nor daring her to kill him. He was simply…accepting it.

Accepting that she would kill him.

Embracing the fate that he was born into.

His fate.

Her fate.

Tears blurred her vision slowly and she felt their path down her reddened cheek. The girl in her was crying. It felt like that day again. Wind blew and trees fluttered in it. A numbing cold penetrated her thin layer of clothes. Her surrounding was quiet. Her surrounding was still. Just like that day.

They waited for someone to break this silence.

Someone who never came that day.

In the silence that both figures stood in, she averted her gaze for a moment though her wand continued to point threateningly at him. She feared that she would lapse more into her feelings of that day.

"I will kill you." She said.

"I know." He replied. "I knew that…for a long time."

"I don't…" she said carefully, tears still falling from her face. "…love you anymore."

"Wish things could've been different." He said softly, barely audible. A rueful smile still on his face. "Do what you have to do."

She nodded. She wished things could be different too. Her hand steadied on her wand. She kept her eyes on him, admiring his fine features again. His handsome features that neither dirt nor blood could deterred.

"Avada Ked-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" His voice echoed across the ground.

As if in slow motion, Hermione watched the red light zoomed at her from the corner of her eyes. She watched, incensed yet strangely grateful for the intervention, as her wand flew out of her hand and she was pushed back. She watched as her vision changed. One moment she was looking at a ruined man giving up his fight, accepting the consequences of his road; next she was staring at the pale sky that seemed so very bleak.

Snow melted under her body heat and the icy water wetted her exposed skin.

She sat up and looked at Professor Dumbledore as he hurried over with his wand readied. She turned her gaze back at the man. He was staring at the newest arrival carefully. Eyes blazing with something akin to fear. A fear for something great. A fear for someone of power. A fear for the things that the power could inflict upon him.

He'd been through it; Hermione realized.

"Professor." Hermione greeted the Headmaster while she kept a close eye on the Death Eater.

She felt rather than saw the Headmaster nodded in greeting.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said, his voice cleared in the brisk air. "Thank you for notifying me of our visitor…"

Her gaze shifted to the elderly Professor for a brief moment again before she slowly, cautiously made her way to retrieve her wand. After all, she still wasn't too sure why _he_ was here.

"Draco," Dumbledore greeted amiably, but the fierceness in his eyes was not lost.

"…Dumbledore." Draco Malfoy returned; though his voice was tired and even weaker than it was moments ago, the arrogance that he displayed in front of others was back again.

"I must say: I am quite surprised to see you." Dumbledore stared intensely into Malfoy's eyes.

He was using Legilmency, Hermione noted.

"I'd thought…" Malfoy's breathing became more labored as he fought off the Headmaster's intrusion. "…that you knew…everything…that happens…around here."

Hermione watched between the two men as they continued their now silent battle. Finally with a sigh, Professor Dumbledore released his spell on the other man.

As soon as the spar of will concluded, Malfoy collapsed.

Hermione shot an inquiring look at the Headmaster which Professor Dumbledore responded with a firm nod to her unasked question. Then she slowly approached Draco Malfoy who lay unmoving on the snowy ground.

* * *

A/N: So that's that. Draco's back into the picture...for now. Wonder whether he's dead or not...hmmm...I might kill some people off soon...that's just a possible turn/twist for the story. Well, hope you found this chapter enjoyable, or I'm in deep trouble. So review? just to get me to squeeze the next chapter out? 


	26. Meeting

Disclaimer: Nope. I own nothing that you recognize in Rowling's books.

A/N: Well, yes, another update...finally. I'm thinking about another update before school starts...but that may not be possible. So all you lovely reviewers can do is to review and hopefully, some of the wonderful things you say will tickle an inspiration in my brain. Without further ado, I present you the next chapter

**Meetings**

Hermione sat patiently in front of Severus' hearth. The fire crackled merrily and it illuminated the dark office in the dungeons. It was one of the two fireplaces that were able to access another fireplace beyond Hogwarts.

The Order's meeting was in few minutes' time and she waited for the arrival of her support, her beacons of light. Today had been a very eventful day and Hermione looked forward to see her friends, some stability, again. She stared at the dancing flame.

Her boys never seemed to be early, just barely on time if not late; she thought, slightly amused.

Suddenly, the fire turned green and with what seemed to be a roar, the flame flew high. Within moments, a swirl of disheveled black hair spun into her view. And before the disorientated body of Harry, who was trying to steady himself, could move, Ron's redhead that clashed horribly with the emerald flame appeared.

"Bloody hell, Harry." Ron exclaimed as he crashed into Harry and the two grown men stumbled out of the hearth like clumsy school boys. "I'd thought after all these years; you'd handle traveling by floo better. Honestly, how hard can it be?"

Hermione smiled at their antics- their presence had already lightened her mood.

Harry ignored Ron's comment and walked towards her with a huge grin. He slung an arm around her shoulders and asked, "So, how's it going, Hermione? Given out any detention yet?"

"None." She grinned as she led them out of the Severus' office. She saw Ron opened his mouth to speak, but before he could start, Hermione said, "and no, I haven't taken more points of Slytherin than necessary. Now, let's go."

With the two grumbling behind her, they entered the meeting room and took their seats after a brief greeting with the other members attending. Within moments, the meeting commenced.

xxXxx

When the meeting adjourned, Ron grumbled all the way to the kitchen where they decided to have a midnight snack. Harry tickled the painted pear in the fruit bowl that despite all these years, still remained fresh and vibrant as the day it was hung onto the wall.

They sat down by the table, just like old times. Dobby and Winky piled food in torturous amount on the table while they'd just asked for a cup of tea and some scones. It was just like old time. Except…the 'old times' wasn't that long ago. Merely five years since they were students of Hogwarts.

"I still don't understand why Dumbledore's letting a Death Eater to stay here!" Ron grumbled with his mouth full, repeating what he had said since he left the meeting room.

"Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly after swallowing her mouthful. "We've been through this already. He may hold invaluable information of Lord Voldemort."

"But this is Hogwarts!" Ron continued. "You've got students here!"

"Yes." She argued back, "You know that. That's why Remus is keeping a look…"

"Remus's injured!" the redhead reminded her.

"Doesn't mean he's invalid."

They held a fierce glaring match. Unwilling to admit defeat, just like the old times.

"Look," Harry finally interfered. "I've came here to have a snack and catch up with Hermione. And about Malfoy, I'm not happy that he's here, but we've got Dumbledore, Remus _and_ Hermione to watch over him; and he will be taken to Grimmauld Place as soon as it's safe to take him traveling by floo."

That had concluded Hermione and Ron's dispute, for which Hermione was grateful because she really did not want to spend those limited times she had with them, arguing with Ron. Who knew when they would meet again after today.

When the three of them had eaten all they could, they left the kitchen and entered the candle lit hallway. From there, they made their way back to Severus' office.

The fire was still blazing after many hours of burning, but no one was present in the room. The trio stepped in and closed the door, just in case someone walked in. This fireplace was, after all, a secret. Ron dug his hand into his pocket and held out a bag of floo powder.

Harry gave her a pat on the shoulders.

"Take care, Hermione." He said before throwing the powder into the flame. He walked into the flame and disappeared with his shout of the destination.

Hermione looked at Ron who had yet to step into the flame. She looked at him questioningly.

"I'll give him a few moments." He said, "Don't want to crash into him like before."

She nodded and was enveloped into a loose brotherly hug.

"I'm sorry about before." Ron said awkwardly, as he released her. "I shouldn't have ranted on about the Order's decision. It was just…It's Malfoy."

"I know." She smiled. "You're forgiven. Now go, before Harry comes back. Take care."

Ron grinned at her. "Well, I'd better go then. You take care too, Hermione. And try taking some more points off Slytherin. I saw their hourglass; they aren't that far behind us!"

With that, Ron, too, threw his handful of floo powder into the fire and went back to Grimmauld Place.

The flame gave a last huff of green, before simmering back to its original orange-red. Hermione gave a last smile at the empty flame before leaving Severus' office. She strolled quietly down the silent and empty hall. The cold air that penetrated the walls of Hogwarts kept her awake. Somehow, maybe because her mind was still wantonly lingering in those past moments where she was with her best friends, her footstep led her away from her room, where her bed lay warm and readied for her, and found herself at the Hospital Wing, besides his bed.

She sat down in a chair and stared at the pale face on the bed.

This was the first time she saw him, really saw him, after graduation.

His pallid and still form stretched out across the equally light sheets. The rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was anything but dead yet. His face was as she remembered it. Only now that; his lips were chapped and colorless. His hair was dull and matted on his face and the pillow where his head sunk deeply into it.

And suddenly a wave of nostalgia struck her.

She remembered seeing him like that once in seventh year. It had been after a Quidditch match. He'd taken various hits during the game and insisted on playing on. It was until he'd taken another Bludger at the base of his neck when he caught the snitch, did he fall from his broom. He caught the prize but lost the game. He had been in the Hospital Wing for two days.

Just like now. He got his power…and the cost of his whole life.

He only looked slightly different from he had in seventh year.

Hermione sighed and wondered what had happened to him to make him took that road.

She stared at the bandaged left arm and refused the urge to touch it. That was where _it_ laid. The Dark Mark. That was where his decisions were. She remembered seeing that darkened, bloodied tattoo in the morning. And she wanted so badly to unwind the stainless bandage to see what it was that had, and probably still, fascinated him.

Hermione forced her hands to stay in her lap as she gripped tightly at her robes.

"Came to check up on a childhood nemesis?" A voice asked from the other side of the Hospital Wing.

Hermione turned to voice quickly and saw her predecessor, trying to sit up on his bed.

"Remus," she greeted as she briskly walked over and helped him. "How are you doing?"

"As well as I can hope for."

"That's good." She said, sitting herself down in a nearby chair. "When are you going to take up teaching again?"

"Well…not for a long time." Remus said, somewhat regretfully. "At least not until next year."

"I see." She nodded, thoughtfully.

"You don't like teaching here?" Remus questioned conversationally. "I'd thought you would be ecstatic. You've always had a fondness for teaching."

Hermione smiled. "It's not that." She replied, and then her face darkened a bit. "It's just that…it doesn't feel right again. Harry and Ron are having those skirmishes out there…always in danger. And I'm here, in relative safety. We've always been a team…and it's the first time we've been separated for this long since the war started."

"They'll manage." Remus reassured her with a soft smile. "You're doing fine here too. You did stop an infiltration today."

He nodded at Malfoy's body across the room. Hermione flashed him a cynical smile as she followed his gaze.

"I was just at the right place at the right time."

"Still." He insisted.

Hermione shrugged, not bothered to continue this argument.

"So, what's going to happen to him?"

"We've decided to haul him to Headquarter for interrogation." She said, peering form her spot at the man across the room, her eyes lingering on the other man for a moment too long. "Once he has come around that is."

Remus noticed but said nothing.

He nodded at her answer. A silence surrounded them. Neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. There was hardly anything else to say that would seem appropriate.

"I shouldn't be deterring you from your rest. Recover soon, Remus. The Order needs you. Tonks misses you too." Hermione said as she stood up.

"I will." The tawny haired man promised as Hermione helped him lie back down.

She left Remus's bedside and on her way out of the Hospital Wing, she shot another glance at the blond Death Eater.

_What's going to happen to you, Draco Malfoy?_

* * *

A/N: Yet another chapter, complete. It's un-beta...because I want to get it to you guys sooner, I hope it's not too bad. I already know what I have to do in the next chapter...just don't know how to start it. I'm sure I'll come up with something. I hope you enjoyed it...and the quality of the chapter makes up for the longer wait. I'm terrribly sorry about that. Hopefully, next chapter would be more eventful than this one. But you can think of it as the calm before the storm...becuase this story has offiicially entered the second halve.

Please Read and Review.


	27. Spy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, in fact, I own nothing but the plot

A/N: I'm soooo sorry! I will admit, finally, to having a massive WB. Absolutely nasty thing there. There is also that, I've gotten lazy, even though everything is readily planned out, in one way or another, I just couldn't get around to writing it. So I'm really sorry for that! I'm now in a boarding school...and only supposedly...a couple of hours away from the great author of Harry Potter!

**Spy**

Four stood in Dumbledore's small yet seemingly spacious office. They gathered around a tin soup can that was incredibly out of place in the ever magical room. Portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses stared down at the live occupants of the room; and Hermione and Neville shamelessly stared back.

It had never ceased to amaze her that every time she entered this room, the decorations and objects seemed to be different. She found an addition of Scholastic Books that was worn by years of age she'd not seen in her previous visits; and a mirror-like shield that sat delicately above the book shelf. The only thing that had seemed to remain the same was Fawkes who sat forever faithful in Dumbledore's study.

"So, everything is all set?" Neville's wondering voice snapped Hermione back to the meeting.

"Yes." She confirmed with him as she slipped her hand into her pocket to make sure the cork of the vial inside, was secured. Hermione withdrew her hand and with a spell, sealed the opening to prevent wandering hands, or spells, finding it.

Another bubbling concoction was presented before her. "Here, take this."

She took the glass from Severus. "A distraction potion." She stated. "How long?"

"Five hours."

"Okay."

She raised the cup to her lips but was stopped with a wave of Dumbledore's hand. She lowered her hand again and met the gaze of the Headmaster. The Professor looked grimly back at her.

"This is a dangerous mission." He stated. "But Hermione, you're not to, under any circumstances, reveal yourself during this. Listen to all you can and record it in a pensive when you come back."

"But…Professor…" Hermione trailed off weakly then nodded. As much as she hated to say it, her loss or capture would be a tremendous blow to the Order; more so than Neville's. She eyed Neville who gazed firmly back at her, silently agreeing with Dumbledore.

"You're the only one who knows the plan. So it's based on trust. You trust me, right?" Neville said. Hermione nodded. "So I leave the rest to you and do my part. He can't torture anything out of me then."

She once again nodded, then she brought the cup to her mouth and drank the potion. She felt herself lightened, and seemed to discolor, as the potion took its effect. Within moments, the eyes of the three remaining occupants could not seem to focus in her general direction. Hermione reached out for the tin can and felt the distinctively uncomfortable pull coming from her navel. She closed her eyes against the feeling and when she opened them again, she found herself in a room above the Leaky Cauldron, where many of the wizarding folk had taken to- to drown the effects of the war in their cups or shots- in the mornings and nights

She opened the door and closed it behind her before she descended to the pub. The room was smoldered in smoke and the strong smell of alcoholic drinks. She took in the scene impassively. She'd been appalled years ago to see so many people drowning themselves, but now, she'd learnt that it was the only way to cope. Hermione went to the counter, where a more than withered Tom was serving industriously.

Tom had a pot dumped onto the table, sloshing half of its content onto the counter, and turned back to another order, Hermione picked up a tray and took the drink to its designated. She weaved through the busy bodies and found the customer who ordered the tea.

It was Blaise Zabini.

She stopped for a bit, before proceeding to him. Neville had yet to arrive; and their 'informant' was already here. She took another quick scan around the room, looking for any suspicious drinkers. She found no known Death Eaters aside from the man before her. She started to reformulate her plan. She'd been planning to serve the drinks to them _after_ Neville has approached Zabini. Now, she probably had a better chance and seemed less suspicious way to intoxicate him.

She served the half full pot to him and earned a distracted nod of gratitude from the Death Eater. She watched in admiration as Zabini tapped his tea with his wand to check for any abnormalities, namely poison. A truly vigilant man. Alastor Moody would have been proud of him (though he'd been more proud if Zabini had brought his own drink).

Hermione returned to the counter and helped a clueless Tom to serve his customers. She kept a close eye on Zabini though. She observed in satisfaction as he quickly finished his pot of tea and Neville sauntered down the stairs. She went to take Neville's order. Frowning at his order for a Fire Whisky; she gave his order to Tom. She took Neville's drink, with the Weasley Twin's modified, infamous Extendable Ears attached discreetly at the base of the cup, to him. He should also have noticed the arrival of the 'informant'; Zabini raised his hand for, hopefully, a refill.

He asked politely for some water for his tea and Hermione nodded at his order, knowing that he wouldn't really know who she was due to the effect of the potion she'd taken. She left for the hot water and unsealed her pocket. She timed her arrival with Neville.

Neville, who was already on another shot of drink, moved leisurely over and started his conversation with an uncharacteristic drawl. Hermione quickly decided that it was the effect of the alcohol but she trusted Neville to know what he was doing. She quickly poured a few drops of the potion into Zabini's cup as his attention was focused on Neville's conversation. She poured the ordered water into the pot, left quietly.

Hermione observed as Zabini once again checked the content in the pot. He was alert, she decided, but not enough. She attached the other end of the Extendable Ear to her ear and listend.

Maneuvering her way into a corner with a cup of water, she sat down in a seat where she could see what was going on in the buzzing room.

"_So,"_ an unfamiliar voice spoke through the earpiece, _"You came back."_

"_Yeah."_Neville's voice came. _"My Gran died. Decided it was time to come back."_

She listened, quite fascinating as their conversation ranged from school days to where Neville had stayed during his absence and then to Quidditch. She was wondering when Neville will bring up _the conversation_, when suddenly, supposedly still on the topic of Quidditch teams, Neville's voice asked:

"_So, Zabini, ever thought of switching sides?"_

From her slightly slouching position, Hermione shot up and listened more intently than before.

"_Yes. I have."_ Zabini's voice came through to her, controlled and dull, clearly under the effect of the serum she put into his drink as it forced the answer from the Death Eater. There was a pause.

"_Whose side would you choose Dumbledore's or the other?"_

"_Dumbledore's."_the subdued answer came.

"_You know what the other side's up to?"_

"_He's trying to resurrect something or create something. I've been ordered to collect something today."_

"_I see. I suppose you'd be coming here weekly?"_

Hermione could barely hear the answer due to the thumping of her heart in her ears but saw the affirmative nod. This was definitely going to be a break through in their stalemate, although it was somewhat too good to be true, a voice reminded her in her head. They had Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, both from the inner circle of the Dark side.

The conversation returned to Quidditch again, and it was as if the previous conversation never occurred.

She sat there, paying occasional attention to the two men's chitchat, and waited for this meeting to end. When finally, both men stood and left the pub, did she followed. She made sure Neville had separated himself from the 'informant' and flooed to The Three Broomstick before apparating away herself.

She apparated into the Dark Forest, where Dumbledore had specially made for her in this mission, and entered the castle from there. She went straight to her room and saw the pensive prepared for her. She withdrew the information from her brain in the silver thread and put it in the bowl of swirling liquid. Hermione then, using as many secret passage as she could remember, she went to the Headmaster's office.

She entered the room, finding Neville had already arrived, drinking the sobering potion under the tight scrutiny of Severus. Professor Dumbledore sat across them and another seat prepared for her. She sat down in it, plotting her bowl on the table and picked up another cup. She drank the content and found the gaze of the three men fell upon her as if she'd materialized into the couch.

"Welcome back, Hermione." Dumbledore said in his mysteriously cheerful tone.

"We did it." Neville said, taking a rest from the nasty concoction and grimaced before continued drinking it.

"Great acting back there." Hermione complimented.

"At the cost of drinking up half of the stock of sobering potion." Severus sarcastic tone sounded.

"Now, come on, Severus." Chastised Dumbledore. "As long as the mission was a success. Correct, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and handed the bowl of Pensive to him. The two men who did not take part in the mission delved in. Within moments, they were back out, both with a thoughtful look plastered on their face.

"What do you think of this, Hermione?" Dumbledore turned to her.

"I would really like to believe it…but unless an Unbreakable Vow is made between him and the Order, like Severus'," Hermione nodded in the direction of the dark haired man opposite her, "we can't trust him."

Snape nodded in agreement. "It is still possible for deception, unless there's the Vow."

"We shall bring it up in the next meeting." Professor decided. "Meanwhile, Neville, if you don't mind, will you keep in contact with Mr. Zabini?"

Hermione watched Neville nod when the door to the Headmaster's study slammed open.

"Professor!" Madam Promfry ran into Dumbledore's office. "He's awake! Draco Malfoy's awake."

Hermione's head snapped around.

* * *

A/N: Well...not as uneventful, I hope. Next chapter will be done in a POV that I'm sure a lot of you are waiting for -drum rolls- Draco's! Please Read and Review...and don't flame me (I'm in a very tender situation here...flaming will cause another massive WB) 


	28. Awakening

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter...or Hermione Granger...or Draco Malfoy. -breaks down into tears-

A/N: I know there's no excuse that would justify such a late and slow update, therefore I apologize sincerely. I hope you will forgive me because I brought the long waited character back into the story.

**Awake**

It was blackness in the beginning. Absolute darkness.

Then there was a blurry vision of a young girl, or maybe it was a woman already, running towards him. She pointed her wand at him. She said something and he replied. And then someone probed his mind….throbbing pain…and then it was a thankful blackness again.

He was probably dead, a wry voice in his mind whispered. Dying like the stupid boy that his father had always called him.

And Draco Malfoy would not allow that. His father no longer ruled his life. Not for a long time.

He struggled to open his eyes.

The whiteness of a familiar ceiling filled his eyes before the curls of a fat woman protruded then disappeared again.

"_I don't…love you anymore."_

The words rung in his head with an awful loudness and he had closed his eyes again. He really wished things were different because he didn't think he had ever stopped loving her. Not even when he joined the Dark Lord and swore to kill those that were impure…the scum of their world.

It was ironic, now that he thought about it; because Hermione was pure in his mind. Would always be, even with blood on her hands. He looked at his own hands. Bruised and bandaged as they may be, they still seemed clean. Like a pureblood's hand, the improvident son of Lucius Malfoy, who'd never left the deep recesses of his mind even after all these years and all his attempts, whispered maliciously in his mind. He grimaced. Because he knew, all of him (except that spoiled boy) in that programmed mind, that his hands were dirty. Unclean because of all the blood of innocent people and curses that had spilt from his hands…

And he had to wonder, what he must do _now_. Because waking up in this stark white room, felt like waking up for the first time after a comatose. He wasn't sure where he was in life anymore. He was no longer a servant of the Dark Lord…but he wasn't with Dumbledore either. He was more of a war criminal…which one side had not discovered, as he was no longer in the privy of Lord Voldemort's newest plans.

He needed to think. And his mind was not being very cooperative.

The door of his room was slid open with a precise 'swoosh' and 'click'; and the woman, whom he now identified as Madame Pomfrey, led Dumbledore and the rest in.

'_Think, _Draco Malfoy' his mind screamed, '_Think-_'

She looked better than the last time he saw her. No blood, no scratches, although that determined look still remained. It somehow reminded him of a time where he had been in this hospital again and she'd come to visit him. Back then, it may have been decorum or love that made her come. But today, he was pretty sure that wasn't what drove her. The stare was steely and her mouth was a thin line that would've made Snape proud. Maybe she had gotten that from Snape during her apprenticeship.

Draco tried to focus on other people that entered the room but found himself too ensnared with the woman before him to do so.

"Malfoy." A voice, hardened by the same battles, broke through his trance. "You're awake."

"Clever of you to point that out, Potter." He replied snidely, almost an automatic respond due to the many years of animosity.

And as quick as a whip, he found himself at the point of a wand. Not Potter's. But Hermione's.

"Malfoy." She said coldly, probing the wand not so gently at the base of his neck ignoring the fat school nurse as she angrily berated her, "I don't think you're in any position to talk back."

He supposed he was expecting it, ever since the day they parted that, their relationship, if there _was_ one beyond that point, would spiral down and became something like their earliest memories of Hogwarts. And when they first fought with the resolve to end one or the other's life, his guess was proven correct…it still hurt to see that one person who had pillared his life turned against him.

Draco tried to formulate a reply, befitted for their association now. But could find none because even though she'd moved on, he was still stuck in those days where they were in love.

"Hermione," Dumbledore's wiry fingers covered hers and slowly lifted her wand away from his chin. "Mr. Malfoy would be of no use to us if you injure him."

"I'm sorry, Professor." Hermione lowered her wand as well as her brown eyes and stepped back from the bed. She stepped back next to Potter, who still glared at him. Draco watched with a wringing feeling in his stomach that intensified as Potter's hand raised and rested on Hermione's shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

He was about to make another snide remark when Dumbledore's colorful robes blocked his view of two of the Golden Trio. Draco pulled an impassive expression and looked at his Old Headmaster.

"Draco," Professor Dumbledore greeted an eerie twinkle in his eyes. "It's good to see you again."

It was at that moment that his mind truly started racing.

"I'm not sure if I can say the same." He chose his words carefully. Lying in a bed, and staring up at the elderly professor made him feel like a school boy again.

"Honest as always, Draco." Professor Dumbledore remarked casually.

"It's a trait of the Malfoys-" He replied, trying to be casual as possible even though he was deep in the 'den' of the enemy.

"I would suppose cocky bastards are a family thing too." Potter's voice cut in acidly.

"Harry." Dumbledore's voice chided stiffly before he turned back to him. "Draco, I believe you know what we want from you. It would be nice if you cooperate."

Draco's mind immediately focused Dumbledore's words. Mind already spinning for possible things to allow him to have a stake in his hands, he readily read into the implications Dumbledore made.

The Order wanted information. And they were going to do anything for it.

Draco had information only privy only to the innermost circle. Voldemort hadn't seen to it to erase his memory, simply assuming that he was going to bleed to death after the various curses and cuts carved onto Dark Mark as a symbol of his failure to him.

"I'll strike you a deal."

Dumbledore looked at him impassively, clearly considering his words. Potter scowled and Hermione did not look impressed. But they both remained silent as Dumbledore opened his mouth.

"What kind of deal are we looking at?"

"I have information known only to those closest to the Dark Lord. I will trade them for a pardon and another go at life if the Dark Lord is defeated."

There was a period of silence before Potter said icily, "That is quite a lot you're asking, Malfoy. Do you even understand the situation you're in?"

Draco glared at him, "I understand it very well. I didn't realize I was talking to you Potter."

"Mal-" Potter started.

"Sir," Hermione's voice rang above Potter's. "Can we have a private word?"

The elderly professor looked at her and nodded. They moved to a far corner of the room and turned their backs to him. He found himself locked in a death glare with Potter as he strained to hear what Hermione and Dumbledore was talking about.

They came back without him catching a single word of the conversation. He looked suspiciously between them, and they both looked back at him- Dumbledore's gaze was as before sparkling with an unknown intellect and Hermione's strangely and scarily passive.

"The Order is willing to consider this deal. As soon as it's deemed safe to move you, we will have you dispatched to elsewhere."

He nodded, agreeing to the conditions that were offered him. After all, there was no other choice. He watched Dumbledore turned to leave, giving him a polite nod. Potter followed afterwards, leaving with snide words about what life a murderer could have. Hermione watched them with him.

When the two men were gone, he turned to her. She still looked away from him. And to him, it was strangely like a rejection. Hermione would've met his eyes fearlessly before. She didn't today.

"You've changed." He remarked quietly.

And she looked at him suddenly, as if she had just snapped out of her thoughts. There was a moment of vulnerability but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a stony regard.

"And you haven't."

"Hermione," he said carefully, wary not to provoke her. "I meant what I said just then."

"Malfoy, I don't care."

Hermione whirled away and walked away from his bed, not even turning around for a look to make sure every ward was secured. And something about the unemotional woman before him seemed to snap a cord on his tongue.

"You should." He called after her retreating back. "I don't go back on my words."

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this update. The next update wouild be at another undefined time. I must say that it's a horrible thing when inspiration is low and the people who used to give you the push are not around. I'm really sorry about that; I really want to complete the story too. Please review?

P.S. Thanks, monkeystarz, for giving me the shove I needed to get this one out.


	29. Transition

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Hermione and Draco would be together by fourth year. -nods-

A/N: Wow...it's been nearly three months since I updated. I'm not even sure whether that's long or short. I know the updates are really irregular these days, butI promise to finish this for all my faithful readers! I will be working hard on the next chapter! Hopefully, the update would be around early July.

**Transition**

She hadn't returned to the Hospital Wing after that evening, he noted as he stared at the stark white ceiling.

He supposed there was no point. After all, what was done could not be undone. And men could only move forwards.

Draco wasn't surprised by her absence, nor was he offended. In fact, he told himself sternly, he would be disappointed with Hermione Granger, and her resolve to _not_ have anything to do with him, if she had appeared in the hospital again.

He smiled to himself. Hermione was never the one to disappoint.

"What are you smiling about, Malfoy?" Remus Lupin's voice sounded from across the room. The question and the address to his name…it hadn't been asked or said with hostility but with mild curiosity or maybe confusion to how to address a war criminal he had once taught.

"Nothing." He answered stiffly and returned to staring at the plane of white above him yet again.

He hadn't noticed Remus Lupin from across the room when he'd first woken up from his coma; and he hadn't realized his presence until Hermione had left the Wing. But now that he had, there was an awkward companionship between them. The man looked healthy enough upon first glance and he had thought that he was there with the sole purpose to guard him. But after the last few weeks, he'd realized that the older man was still recovering from their previous battles; his hair was greyer than it was tawny brown and he still suffered from moments of convulsion. Two evenings ago, with the aid of the nurse and Tonks, who had happened to turn up in that morning, he had disappeared for an entire night; the next morning Lupin had returned, looking more haggard with bags under his eyes and scratches marring what was not conveniently covered by his loose shirt. His cousin had been there too, and her eyes as she helped the werewolf into bed had dared him to make a comment.

He hadn't of course, knowing how foul the tempers of those related to the Black family could be, but it didn't take much to guess what had happened the previous night. And though he had been warned not to discuss lycanthropy; he had still been quite tempted to question.

"What _is_ it like?" he asked suddenly, unable to contain his curiosity anymore.

"What is what like?" the other man asked, looking up from a book which he'd began reading a few moments ago.

Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, carefully avoiding putting any strain on his left arm which still ached quite constantly. Lupin was staring at him neutrally, neither judging nor without reserves, and he returned the stare. He thought about the query in his head and tried to decide how to approach the topic. His eyes subconsciously darted to the purple and red scars on Lupin's hand.

"You mean, what's it like being a werewolf?" Lupin voiced his question, clearly noticing his glance at his scars.

xxXxx

It probably surprised him more than anyone that the companionship had taken a turn like this. In the due course of the last two weeks, his relationship with the other man in the room had somewhat improved and turned into something akin to friendship. With nothing else to occupy their time as they healed in the isolated room, so heavily warded that no one could stumble in accidentally or without permission, they had taken to conversation. Lupin had been surprisingly kind and conversational when Draco's curiosity got the best of him. Since then, Lupin had initiated some of the most intellectual discussions he had had in their occasional talks. Yet—

There were certain topics they stayed away from, like the War and its situation and Potter's gang.

They were having a conversation about the power of goblins over pixies, when Madame Pomfrey walked in with a tray of vials and food. Normally, Lupin would give the woman a light nod as she tended to his wounds and then their conversations would cease until Pomfrey was out again.

Pomfrey sat down by Lupin's bed and began to treat a stubborn wound on his right arm which still refused to heal. She whispered something under her breath and Draco saw Lupin's eyes widened before nodding. Draco raised his eyebrow slightly at the odd display of emotion but remained quiet. He watched as Lupin turned away from the fretting nurse and looked across the room at him.

"Hermione's coming in today." He said.

He tried not to look surprised, but gave up quickly as his expression had clearly not fooled the other man. "And?"

"You don't seem upset or concerned." Lupin noted, looking at him.

"Why should I be?" he retorted.

Lupin shrugged and got a swat from Madame Pomfrey because he had loosened a wrap of bandage on his arm.

Draco sunk back into his pillow, never noticing that he had sat up just a little bit straighter when Lupin mentioned about Hermione's visit. He could already guess the reason for her coming. He supposed that he was fit enough to be moved away from the Hospital Wing.

He thought he would be nervous. After all it was going to be a pending meeting with transport, interrogation…and blood and screams, a dark part of his mind reminded him of the Dark Lord's uncannily effective methods. And unconsciously he delved into the last torture he had participated in. He didn't even remember the name of the one they had captured. He'd only been told that '_he had information.'_ and to _'get it out of him.'_ He remembered doing exactly that too. Not that the information that came out eventually (it had been three days, he thought) was any useful. The captive had gargled a few words that Millicent had recorded before choking in his own blood…

A wave of queasiness shocked him. He was supposed to be used to these. But the reminder of the tangy sweat, the excretion and the coppery smell of warm blood trickling, spreading across cold damp concrete fused with the sharp smell of disinfectant from across the room. His fists tightened around the sheet while his stomach rolled in protest.

"Malfoy." A voice called from the doorway of the room, earning a very disgruntled glare from Madame Pomfrey who was checking Lupin's wound again. It had successfully dragged his wandering mind far, far away from the blood and sweat and ugliness of that escapade.

He looked towards the doorway and saw Potter. He quirked his eyebrow at the man and was given a glare in return. Potter walked up to his bedside and looked down at him impassively. "You're leaving today."

With that said, he moved away and across the room to Lupin. He began talking to the other man in low voices. There were some nods here and there, and once, a very indignant mutter from Madame Pomfrey. The hush conversation continued until the door was slid open for the second time and Hermione strode in purposefully.

"Everything's set." Her eyes focused solely on Potter, who met her gaze with a nod. She then turned her gaze in his general direction, "Why is he still in bed?"

"I haven't been told to do otherwise," he called across the room to her, "And Granger, it's rude to talk about someone else as if they're not in the room."

Hermione ignored his comment. "Harry, help me get him out of the bed."

Madame Pomfrey began protesting, but was silenced by Hermione's look. Hermione pulled at his sheets and then Potter, by her side now, pulled him out of bed. They handed him a set of robes and pointed him to a makeshift curtain to use as the changing room. Draco stared at the piece of garment shoved into his hands. It was old and rough. _Probably one of the Weasley's_, he noted snidely. He heaved a sigh. After all, he didn't have much of a choice. He pulled the hospital gown over his head and put the robes given to him on. It was relatively comfortable, he thought, at least material wasn't scratching the wounds on his back. He walked out from behind the makeshift changing room and saw Hermione's and Potter's heads bent together discussing.

"I think this route is the safest." Potter said, pointing to a route shown on a very explicit map of what seemed to be the school.

Hermione nodded, but then she pointed out another diverging spot. "Okay, but I think it's best if we take this cut instead of here. There is a class there. I don't want to let any student see him."

"Okay." Potter said, before tapping the map softly and muttering something under his breath. He watched in slight amazement as the map disappeared. Potter caught his eyes and gave him a rather cold look before shoving the map into his pocket. "He's here." He told Hermione, as she couldn't see him from her seat.

Hermione turned around and told him, "We'll bound you, then take you somewhere else."

He raised an eyebrow. He didn't have his wand, nor was he well enough to make a run to anywhere even if he wanted to. "I can't run away, you know." He drawled out.

"We're not taking any chances. There're students about." Hermione said, not missing a beat.

Draco shrugged and offered his hands forward. Ropes shot out from the end of Hermione's wand and wound tightly around his wrists. He watched Hermione tugged sharply at the rope and felt its rough materials scratch against his skin. He inspected the knot carefully and gave it a subtle tug. _They really _weren't _taking any chances_, he thought wryly.

"Happy?" he asked sarcastically.

Hermione ignored him and handed the rope to Potter who'd walked over. "Is it cleared, Harry?"

Potter nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Potter tugged at his rope and let Hermione take the lead towards the door of the Ward before following her. Draco looked around one last time. The time has came. This was probably the last time he would see Hogwarts. Nostalgia tugged at his guts with each step he took, moving him away from the place he had been staying for the last few weeks.

* * *

A/N: Evil Only Secret is leaving you hanging here. To turn Evil Only Secret into Nice Only Secret, please review! Wouldn't you just love to know where Draco is going, and what is going to happen to the budding friendship between Remus and Draco…and the seemingly impossible development of Draco and Hermione's relationship! 


	30. Grimmauld Place

Disclaimer: I'm once again floored by the fact that I don't own them.

A/N: Oops! It took me over a month to update! Sorry for the delay, I've hopefully make it up with extra words. I don't know what to say, I've entered the section where I slowly, or maybe not so slowly, build towards -that- point of the story. I hope I'll finish it before the end of next school year. But that's just me and my thinking. I hope you like this chapter...Try to spot the underlying re-budding emotions.

**Grimmauld Place**

The hall was oddly quiet, with only their resonating footsteps clicking on the stone floor.

The clicking made her nervous. Already, more than once, she'd wanted to look over her shoulder just to make sure everything was as Harry and she choreographed. She had to, at the very last moments, remind herself to stay focus. All students were in classes; Harry was a great wizard and nothing would go wrong.

Hermione looked down at the Marauders' Map for the section in Hogwarts they were in, making sure that there really weren't any students wondering about. She released that breath she didn't know she was holding when she saw no names on the map. There wouldn't be anyone about, she told herself with slight satisfaction, not with the new regime of teachers patrolling during their free lessons and not with the route they've chosen. They were far away from any classrooms or any nosy portraits, and they were taking as many secret passages as possible. And they were on the last corridor before Dumbledore's gargoyle.

With their destination so close, she dared to turn around just once to look at the two men behind her. Harry met her gaze and gave her a smile. Malfoy raised his eyebrows with a questioning look when she looked back.

Upon meeting his eyes for the first time since the last couple of weeks, the question that she had been dying to ask – 'Why the hell are you still alive?' – spun wildly in her head. She glared fiercely at the blond man as if it was all his fault – which it was – that the question was in her head.

Suddenly, she felt like she'd walked through a veil of coolness. Hermione's head swung around and then back, only to see Harry's frozen face and Malfoy's nonchalant expression through a veil of whiteness. She blinked. Of all things possible; they'd walked through a ghost, who had had to appear from out of nowhere, less than twenty meters away from Dumbledore's office.

"Good day, Bloody Baron." Hermione greeted stiffly, drawing the attention of the ghost to her.

"Ah, Good day, Professor Granger," said Bloody Baron before turning back to the other two. "Good day to you too, Harry Potter. And why…young Malfoy, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"Your Lordship-" began Hermione. She had to stop the Baron from telling the other ghosts, or the news of the war criminal would be out of Hogwarts before they can stop it. She was, however, silenced by a hand from the Baron.

She glared and Malfoy smirked. Of course, Malfoy would want the news of his capture out of the castle! Then, Voldemort would come and get him and then the students would be put under danger! Oh, Merlin; what should-

"Hello, Blood Baron. I'm here to accompany Potter and Granger for a little session." Drawled Malfoy, "It's good to see you again. I hope Slytherin is thriving."

"Ah," sighed the Baron, "It hasn't been the same since you've graduated, Young Malfoy. No one has made Head students."

"I'm sure-" Draco tried to continue before Harry gave him a firm tug on his rope.

Hermione saw the Baron frowned at the action.

"Well, I see that you are in a great hurry." The Baron said as he floated away, "I will be on my way to talk to some of my house."

Her eyes widened in horror. There was no way they could stop the news of Malfoy's capture from staying quiet now!

"Oh, Your Lordship, thank you for your graciousness." Draco nodded his head at the ghost, ready to go again. When he saw her stricken face, he smirked and turned around and said, "Your Lordship, would it be possible if I ask you to keep our chanced meeting a personal affair?"

The ghost of Slytherin house turned about. And after a moment of what seemed to be consideration, he nodded. "Farewell, young Malfoy. And you too, Professor Granger and Harry Potter."

She sighed in relief when the ghost disappeared through another wall. Without another word, she continued walking. The faster they entered the stairwell to Professor's Dumbledore's office, the better.

When they'd finally entered the stairwell, Harry and Malfoy first, then herself, after muttering the password, Malfoy turned around with a somewhat smug expression that she used to know.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" He asked.

"For what?" Harry snapped at him, clearly impatient to haul him into the Head office as well.

"Well, for making sure, that the news that I'm here didn't spread." Malfoy said, as if explaining the most obvious fact to a young child, as they entered the Head Office.

Hermione saw the tensing of Harry's shoulders and could already anticipate an outburst. She gave Harry a pat on the arm and shook her head, warning him not to take Malfoy's words too seriously. Malfoy after all was only trying to rile them up. And he was obviously not worth it.

"I must thank you then, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore's airy voice sounded from across them, "for such a kind act." The old Headmaster moved away from his desk and invited them to the two settees in the center of the room.

Immediately, Hermione noted somewhat absently, the air around Malfoy changed from condescending to something akin to respect. He straightened up, like an aristocrat would, as Harry untied him and sat himself down on a sofa, back straight and face calm. His posture clearly stated that he meant business; his poise was exactly like the days when he was Head Boy. She'd always found that confidence he radiated was highly attractive.

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. She seemed to be so distracted lately. It must be the stress of teaching. Harry gave her a look of concern, which she waved away carelessly with a smile, and stood herself behind Professor Dumbledore. Harry positioned himself behind Malfoy.

"Tea, Mr. Malfoy?" The Professor offered with a genial smile.

Malfoy nodded with an equal cordial smile on his face.

With a wave of his wand, Professor Dumbledore poured the tea. Had this happened to anyone besides the occupants in that very room, it would be a rather amiable meeting between two wizards, probably finalizing some business plan; not an interrogation session.

Draco Malfoy sipped his tea slowly; Hermione once again admired his ability to remain calm even knowing what was ahead. She thanked the Headmaster as he offered her a cup too and drank slowly, still quietly observing the war criminal who should have been dead but still managed to find his way into the fortress with the tightest security.

The two sitting men made idle talk about the weather, his injuries and rather general things before the chitchat died with the impending questions. The room fell silent.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure you've already guessed that the tea I gave you was drugged-" Professor Dumbledore started. Malfoy tipped his head slightly to affirm. "But to elevate your concerns, we've drunk it too. So you may be assured that the drug has no harm to the body."

"A Truth Serum, then, Professor?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes. May we start with asking the full name of Professor Granger here?" Professor Dumbledore said.

"Of course. I do believe Professor Granger's full name is…"

Hermione watched as Harry's eyebrow rose in astonishment. Although her full name wasn't a secret, there was surprisingly little people who knew her full name. Only a couple of people were close enough to ever bother finding it out, others had just assumed that it was 'Jane'. Draco Malfoy had been one of them, even if it'd probably been a misjudgment. She still remembered how it had been a silly bickering session that had led to her revealing her full name.

"Interesting," remarked Professor Dumbledore then he glanced over at Hermione. "I didn't think you would know."

"I'd informed him in one of the Head meetings." She lied through her teeth. It was probably not the most effective lie; but it seemed to pacify Harry who immediately relaxed.

"Very well. Another question then. Who sent you here?" Dumbledore asked.

"No one."

"So, you came here on your own free will?" Dumbledore sat back with a pensive look upon his face. Malfoy gave them a nod. "Then, Mr. Malfoy, what is your purpose here?"

"I-" he began and paused quickly, he was showing uncertainty for the first time he entered the room. "I'm no longer a servant of the Dark Lord. I want to strike a deal."

"Is that so, Mr. Malfoy? What do you know?" Professor Dumbledore summoned the bowl which he kept his Pensieve in.

"Lord Voldemort plans to strengthen his body by adding another bone into his body…I don't understand why he needs a bone though, there are so many strengthening spells…" Malfoy drifted off slowly.

"His father's bones." Harry said tersely. "He wants to use his father's bones. As if digging into his grave once wasn't enough already, that sick bastard."

"What should we do, Professor? If the Dark Lord…" Hermione asked the elderly man whose face had changed from a rather passive interest to one of keen concern. She had many theories of what they could, ranging from the blowing up of his father's grave to inventing a powerful countering charm; however, she didn't think that any of them were going to bring about much affect on Lord Voldemort's general plan.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you familiar with the arts of semi-resurrection?" the Headmaster asked.

"I am no expert; but I've touched upon them once or twice." Malfoy said.

"Very well, we've got no time to lose." The Professor clapped his hands together, clearly signaling the end of this particular meeting.

"But, Professor," began Hermione, "What are we going to do with Malfoy here?"

"As according to plan, of course." Professor Dumbledore answered. "Mr. Malfoy, we'll take you to a place where you can stay and I hope that you can begin a research on the different possible spells that Lord Voldemort may use. I'm sure that is not too much to ask?"

"I am supposing that our bargain is a deal?" the blond man before them asked.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. We have a deal." The older man nodded.

"But Professor!" Harry protested. He was clearly not happy about the arrangement because after all, Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be an ex-Death Eater, was going to stay with him in Grimmauld Place. "I'm sure Hermione can handle the research part just fine."

"I'm teaching now." Hermione reminded her friend quietly. "I don't have enough time to do the all the research now. We could use his help. Correct, Malfoy?"

Hermione turned to face Malfoy. He smirked at her, just like the way he used to. "Of course. I look forward to working with you again, Granger. Maybe you can bring some books from the Library here. Just like old times."

Hermione gave him a rather icy smile. "It will be my pleasure, _Malfoy_."

"Now, Harry," began Professor Dumbledore as he strolled towards his desk dug out a rather old and broken vase from beneath it. "I will accompany you to Mr. Malfoy's new resting place."

Harry nodded as he straightened up from the position he'd slouched into during the questioning. He walked over to her and gave her a hug and told her to take care. Harry turned to Malfoy and gave a jerk of his head in Dumbledore's direction to indicate that he was going _after_ him.

With the three men's hands on the vase, Hermione asked, "May I leave now, Professor?"

"Oh, Hermione," Dumbledore said cheerily. "Do stay around until we've left! I'm rather fond of this vase; would you please repair it if it shatters when we disappear?"

"Of course, Professor." She smiled at the Headmaster. The older man had always had a liking for odd little things and she supposed the vase was another from his collection.

"Oi, Granger." Hermione turned to spare Malfoy a glance.

"What?"

"Remember what I've said. I'll be seeing you." He smirked. The smugness was back and Hermione wasn't exactly sure whether she liked it or not. The attitude he was displaying now was very…Malfoy, and to a certain extent, not what she expected from this mass murderer.

Instead of giving a response, Hermione graced him with a glare. She continued glaring until the three men were sucked into the vacuum created above the vase. She tried levitating the vase before it crashed down, but it seemed like gravity won the race. She sighed and walked across the room to repair the shattered vase. Then, she placed the vase on the desk before making her way out.

The sun was already setting when she walked out from behind the gargoyle. The orange and red and pink rays were casting long, long shadows on the stone tiles. The corridor was empty and quiet. She wondered where the students were and what were they doing. The hallway seemed so empty and quiet after this tiring day. The silence made her rather jumpy but she told herself she was being paranoid and with one of the biggest threats in Hogwarts removed, she should be more relaxed.

Hermione returned to her private room after deciding that she'd already missed dinner and she could ask Dobby or Winky to bring her some food if she felt hungry. She changed into clothing that was more comfortable and sat down at her desk where a pile of marking awaited her. She yawned and then smiled as she dipped her quill into the red ink and began. This was her comfort zone. She knew what she was doing. Nothing could go wrong…

"_I meant what I said…I'll be seeing you."_

She jerked up violently, pushing her chair far back. She breathed heavily and looked around in panic. Looking up, she only found herself in her own room and Crookshanks was on the couch giving her a curious look as his own sleep was disturbed by his mistress. Sagging with relief when she finally noticed that she'd only fallen asleep and was only dreaming. She looked down at the pile of marking before her. Upon deciding that she had done enough to ensure that the students would get their work back in the next two days, she went over to Crookshanks and picked him up.

"Oh, Crookshanks, it must be the stress of teaching that made me have that dream…" she told him and went into the bedroom.

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A/N: So, can anyone spot anything? I hope you've enjoyed it...and please review. Often your reviews point me at the right direction to write the next chapter.


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